Thorpe, Thomas Bangs, 1815-1878

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Call number 976 T522h 1854 (Davis Library, UNC-CH)

Source Description:
The Hive of "The bee-hunter," A Repository of Sketches,
Including Peculiar American Character, Scenery, and Rural
Sports T. B. Thorpe New York,D. Appleton and Company
1854

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PREFACE.

THE "HIVE OF THE BEE-HUNTER" has one object,
which the author would impress upon such readers as
may honor him with their attention.

An effort has been made, in the course of
these sketches, to give to those personally unacquainted
with the scenery of the southwest, some idea of the
country, its surface, and vegetation.

In these matters, the author has endeavored
to be critically correct, indulging in the honest
ambition of giving some information, while depicting
the germinating evidences of the great
original characters national to these localities.

The southwest, with its primeval and evergreen
forests, its unbounded prairies, and its many and
continuous rivers, presents contributions of nature,
which the pilgrims from every land, for the first
time, behold with wonder and awe.

Here, in their vast interior solitudes, far removed
from trans-Atlantic influences, are alone
to be found, in the more comparative infancy of
our country, characters truly sui generis - truly
American.

What man would be, uninfluenced by contact
with the varied associations of long civilization, is
here partially demonstrated in the denizens of the
interior of a mighty continent.

The discovery of America, - its vast extent, - and
its developing destiny, - present facts, which
far surpass the wildest imagery of the dreamers
of the olden times.

There are growing up, in these primitive wilds,
men, whose daily life and conversation, when detailed,
form exaggerations; but whose histories
are, after all, only the natural developments of
the mighty associations which surround them.

WILD TURKEY HUNTING.

ORIGINALLY, the wild turkey was found scattered
throughout the whole of our continent, its habits only
differing, where the peculiarity of the seasons compelled
it to provide against excessive cold or heat. In the
"clearing," it only lives in its excellent and degenerated
descendant of the farm-yard, but in the vast prairies and
forests of the "far west," this bird is still abundant,
and makes an important addition to the fare of wild life.

It is comparatively common on the "frontiers," but
every passing year lessens its numbers; and as their disappearance
always denotes their death their extermination
is progressive and certain.

In Louisiana, Alabama, South Carolina, and other
southern states, there are fastnesses, in which they will
find support and protection for a long time to come.
The swamps and lowlands that offer no present inducement

to "the settler," will shelter them from the rifle;
and in the rich productions of the soil, they find a superabundance
of food.

The same obscurity, however, that protects them,
leaves the hole of the wildcat in peace; and this bitter
enemy of the turkey, wars upon it, and makes its life one
of cunning and care. Nor, is its finely-flavored meat unappreciated
by other destroyers, as the fox often makes
the turkey an evening meal, while the weasel contents
itself with the little chicks. The nest, however, may
have been made, and the young birds may have in peace
broken the shell, and frightened at their own piping
notes, hidden instinctively away, when the Mississippi
will rise, bearing upon its surface the waters of a thousand
floods, swell within its narrow banks, and overflow
the lowlands. The young bird, unable to fly, and too
delicate to resist the influence of the wet, sickens and
dies.

Upon the dryness of the season, therefore, the turkey-
hunter builds his hopes of the plentifulness of the
game.

Independent of the pernicious influence of unfavorable
seasons, or the devastation of the wild turkey by
destructive animals, their numbers are also annually
lessened by the skill of the pioneer and backwoodsman,
and in but comparatively a few more years the bird must
have, as a denizen of our border settlements, only a traditionary
existence; for the turkey is not migratory in

its habits, and its absence from any of its accustomed
haunts, is indicative of its total extermination from the
place where it was once familiar.

At present, the traveller in the "far west," while
wending his solitary way through the trackless forests,
sometimes very unexpectedly meets a drove of turkeys
in his pathway, and when his imagination suddenly
warms with the thought that he is near the poultry-yard
of some hospitable farmer, and while his wearied limbs
seem to labor with extra pain, as he thinks of the couch
compared with the cold ground as a resting-place, he
hears a sudden whizzing in the air, a confused noise,
and his seeming evidences of civilization and comfort
vanish as the wild turkey disappears, giving him by
their precipitate flight, the most painful evidence that he
is far from the haunts of men and home.

Turkey hunting is a favorite pursuit with all who
can practice it with success, but it is a bird liberally
provided by nature with the instinct of self-preservation,
and is, therefore, seldom found off its guard. Skilful
indeed must be the shot that stops the turkey in its
flight of alarm, and yet its wings, as with the partridge
and quail, are little used for the purposes of escaping
from danger. It is on their speed that they rely for
safety, and we doubt if the best hounds could catch
them in a race, even if the turkey's wings were clipped
so that they could not resort to height to elude their
pursuers. So little indeed does the bird depend upon

its pinions, that they find it difficult to cross rivers
moderately wide, and in the attempt the weak and very
fat, are often sacrificed.

We have seen the wild turkey gathering in troops
upon the limb of some tall cotton wood on the banks of
the Mississippi, and we have known by their preparations
that they intended to cross the rive. There on
their elevated roost they would set, stretching out their
necks as if gathering a long breath for their, to them,
prolonged :Fight. In the mean while, the "squatter,"
on the opposite bank, would prepare himself to take advantage
of the birds' necessities. Judging from experience
where about the "drove" would land on his side
of the stream, he would lie concealed until the flight
commenced. The birds would finally launch themselves
in the mid air, as in their progress it could be seen that
they constantly descended toward the earth, - the bank
would be reached, but numbers exhausted would fail to
reach the land, and would fall a prey to the insatiate
wave, or the rapacious wants of man.

In hunting the wild turkey, there is unfortunately
too little excitement to make it a favorite sport with
those who follow the hounds. But uncertainty of
meeting with the bird, even if you know its haunts, and
the sudden termination of the sport, even if successful,
makes successful turkey hunters few and far between.

The cautiousness of the wild turkey is extraordinary:
it excels that of the deer, or any other game whatever;

and nothing but stratagem, and an intimate knowledge
of the habits of the bird by the hunter, will command
success. We once knew an Indian, celebrated for all
wood craft, who made a comfortable living by supplying
a frontier town with game. Often did he greet the villagers
with loads of venison, with grouse, with bear, but
seldom, indeed, did he offer the esteemed turkey for
sale. Upon being reproached for his seeming incapacity
to kill the turkey, by those who desired the bird, he defended
himself as follows:

"Me meet moose - he stop to eat, me shoot him.
Me meet bear - he climb a tree, no see Indian, me shoot
him. Me meet deer - he look up - say may be Indian,
may be stump - and me shoot him. Me see turkey great
way off - he look up and say, Indian coming sure - me
no shoot turkey, he cunning too much."

The turkey is also very tenacious of life, and will
often escape though wounded in a manner that would
seem to defy the power of locomotion. A rifle ball has
been driven through and through the body of a turkey,
and yet it has run with speed for miles. Some hunters
have been fortunate in possessing dogs that have, without
any instruction, been good turkey hunters. These
dogs follow the scent, lead the hunter up to the haunts
of the bird, die quiet until a shot is had, and then follow
the game if only wounded, until it is exhausted, and
thus secure a prize to the hunter, that would otherwise
have been lost. This manner of hunting the turkey,

however, cannot be its most legitimate form; as
will be noticed in the progress of our chronicle.

The taste that makes the deer and fox hunt a favorite
amusement, is not the foundation on which to build
a true turkey hunter. The baying of hounds, the
clamor of the horn, the excitement of the chase, the
pell-mell and noisy demonstration, are all destructive to
the successful pursuit of the turkey, - consequently, the
turkey hunter is distinct and peculiar; he sympathises
with the excentric habits of the bird, with its love of
silence, with its obscurity, and it is no objection to him,
if the morning is whiled away in the deep solitude, in
comparative inaction, for all this favors contemplation
worthy of an intellectual mind.

It is unnecessary to describe the bird, though we
never see it fairly represented except in the forest.
The high-mettled racer that appears upon the course
is no more superior to the well fed cart-horse, than is
the wild turkey to the tame; in fact, nothing living
shows more points of health and purity of blood than
this noble bird. Its game head, and clear hazel eye,
the clean, firm step, the great breadth of shoulder, and
deep chest, strike the most superficial observer. Then
there is an absolute commanding beauty about them,
when they are alarmed or cautious; then they elevate
themselves to their full height, bringing their head perpendicular
with their feet, and gaze about, every feather
in its place, the foot upraised ready at an instant to

strike off at a speed, that, as has been said of the ostrich,
"scorneth the horse and his rider."

As a general thing, turkey-hunters, if they be of
literary habits, read Isaak Walton, and Burton's "Anatomy
of Melancholy," and all - learned or unlearned -
are, of course, enthusiastic disciples of the rod and line.
The piscator can be an enthusiastic admirer of the opera,
the wild turkey-hunter could not be, for his taste
never carries him beyond the simple range of natural
notes. Herein, he excels.

Place him in the forest with his pipe, and no rough
Pan ever piped more wilily, or more in harmony with
the scenes around him. The same tube modulates the
sound of alarm, and the dulcet Strains of love; it plays
plaintively the complaining notes of the female, and, in
sweet chirrups, calls forth the lover from his hiding-
place; it carols among the low whisperings of the fledgling,
and expresses the mimic sounds of joy at the treasure
of food, that is discovered under the fallen leaf, or
half hidden away in the decaying wood.

And all this is done so craftily, that ears, on which
nature has set her stamp of peculiar delicacy, and the
instinct, true almost as the shadow to the sunlight; are
both deceived.

The wild turkey-hunter is a being of solitude. There
is no noise or boisterous mirth in his pursuit.

Even the dead leaf, as it sails in circuitous motion
to the earth, intrudes upon his caution, and alarms the

wary game, which, in its care of preservation, flies as
swiftly before the imaginary, as before the real danger.

Often, indeed, is the morning's work destroyed by
the cracking of a decayed limb, under the nimble spring
of the squirrel. The deer and timid antelope will stop
to gratify curiosity; the hare scents the air for an instant,
when alarmed, before it dashes off; but the turkey
never speculates, never wonders; suspicion of danger,
prompts it to immediate flight, as quickly as a reality.

The implements of the turkey-hunter are few and
simple; the "call," generally made of the large bone of
the turkey's wing, or a Small piece of wood, into which is
driven a nail, and a small piece of oil stone (the head
of the nail on being quickly scraped on the stone, producing
perfectly the noise of the female turkey), and a
double-barrel fowling-piece, complete the list. A rifle
is used where the game is plentiful; and the person using
it, as we have already described, depends upon the sagacity
and speed of the dog, to rescue the wounded bird,
for the turkey never instantly dies, except wounded in
the brain.

Where turkeys are plentiful and but little hunted,
unskilful persons succeed in killing them; of such hunters
we shall not speak.

The bird changes its habits somewhat with its
haunts, growing wilder as it is most pursued; it may,
therefore, be said to be the wildest of game. Gaining
in wisdom according to the necessity, it is a different

bird where it is constantly sought for as game, from
where it securely lives in the untrodden solitude. The
turkey will, therefore, succeed at times in finding a
home in places comparatively "thickly settled," and
be so seldom seen, that they are generally supposed to
be extinct. Under such circumstances, they fall victims
only to the very few hunters who may be said to
make a science of their pursuit.

"I rather think," said a turkey-hunter, "if you
want to find a thing very cunning, you need not go to
the fox or such varmints, but take a gobbler. I once
hunted regular after the same one for three years, and
never saw him twice.

"I knew the critter's 'yelp' as well as I know Music's,
my old deer dog; and his track was as plain to
me as the trail of a log hauled through a dusty road.

"I hunted the gobbler always in the same 'range,'
and about the same 'scratching,' and he got so, at last,
that Allen I 'called,' he would run from me, taking the
opposite direction to any own foot-tracks.

"Now, the old rascal kept a great deal on a ridge, at
the end of which, where it lost itself in the swamp, was
a hollow cypress tree. Determined to outwit him, I
put on my shoes, heels foremost, walked leisurely down
the ridge, and got into the hollow tree, and gave a
'call,' and boys," said the speaker exultingly, "it would
have done you good to see that turkey coming towards
me on a trot, looking at my tracks, and thinking I had
gone the other way."

Of all turkey-hunters, our friend W -- is the most
experienced; he is a bachelor, lives upon his own plantation,
studies, philosophizes, makes fishing tackle, and
kills turkeys. With him, it is a science reduced to certainty.
Place him in the woods where turkeys frequent,
and he is as certain of them as if already in his possession.

He understands the habits of the bird so well, that
he will, on his first essay, on a new hunting-ground, give
the exact character of the hunters the turkeys have been
accustomed to deal with. The most crafty turkeys are
those which W--- seeks, hemmed in by plantations,
inhabiting uncultivatable land, and always in more or
less danger of pursuit and discovery, they become, under
such circumstances, wild beyond any game whatever.

They seem incapable of being deceived, and taking
every thing strange, as possessed to them of danger - whether it be a moth out of season - or a veteran hunter -
they appear to common, or even uncommon observers,
annihilated from the country, were it not for
their footprints occasionally to be seen in the soft soil
beside the running stream, or in the light dust in the
beaten road.

A veteran gobbler, used to all the tricks of the
hunter's art - one who has had his wattles cut with
shot; against whose well-defended breast had struck the
spent ball of the ride - one who, though almost starved,
would walk by the treasures of grain in the "trap" and

"pen," - a gobbler who will listen to the plaintive note of
the female until he has tried its quavers, its length, its repetitions,
by every rule nature has given him - and then,
perhaps not answer, except in a smothered voice, for
fear of being deceived; - such a turkey will W--- select
to break a lance with, and, in spite of the chances
against him, win.

We then have here the best specimen of wild turkey-
hunting; an exhibition of skill between the perfection
of animal instinct, and the superior intellect
of man.

The turkey-hunter, armed with his "call," starts
into the forest; he bears upon his shoulder the trusty
gun. He is either informed of the presence of turkeys,
and has a particular place or bird in view, or he makes
his way cautiously along the banks of some running
steam; his progress is slow and silent; it may be that
he unexpectedly hears a noise, sounding like distant
thunder; he then knows that he is in close proximity
of the game, and that he has disturbed it to flight.
When such is the case, his work is comparatively done.

We will, for illustration, select a more difficult hunt.
The day wears towards noon, the patient hunter has
met no "sign," when suddenly a slight noise is heard -
not unlike, to unpractised ears, a thousand other woodland
sounds; the hunter listens; again the sound is
heard, as if a pebble dropped into the bosom of a little
lake. It may be that woodpecker, who, desisting from

his labors, has opened his bill to yawn - or, perchance,
yonder little bird so industriously scratching among the
dead leaves of that young holly. Again, precisely the
same sound is heard; yonder, high in the heavens, is a
solitary hawk, winging its way over the forests, its rude
scream etherealized, might come down to our ears, in
just such a sound as made the turkey-hunter listen;
- again the same note - now more distinct. The quick
ear of the hunter is satisfied; stealthily he intrenches
himself behind a fallen tree, a few green twigs are
placed before him, from among which protrudes the
muzzle of his deadly weapon.

Thus prepared, he takes his "call," and gives one
solitary "cluck" - so exquisitely - that it chimes in with
the running brook and the rustling leaf.

It may be, that a half a mile off, if the place be favorable
for conveying sound, is feeding a "gobbler;"
prompted by his nature, as he quickly scratches up the
herbage that conceals his food, he gives utterance to the
sounds that first attracted the hunter's attention.

Poor bird! he is bent on filling his crop; his feelings
are listless, common-place; his wings are awry;
the plumage on his breast seems soiled with rain; his
wattles are contracted and pale, - look! he starts -
every feather is instantly in its place, he raises his delicate
game-looking head full four feet from the ground,
and listens; what an eye! what a stride is suggested by
that lifted foot! gradually the head sinks; again the

bright plumage grows dim, and with a low cluck, he resumes
his search for food.

The treasures of the American forest are before
him; the choice pecan-nut is neglected for that immense
"grub worm" that rolls down the decayed stump,
too large to crawl; now that grasshopper is nabbed;
presently a hill of ants presents itself, and the bird
leans over it, and, with wondering curiosity, peering
down the tiny hole of its entrance, out of which are issuing
the industrious insects.

Again that cluck greets his ear, up rises the head
with lightning swiftness, the bird starts forward a pace
or two, looks around in wonder, and answers back.

No sound is heard but the falling acorn; and it
fairly echoes, as it rattles from limb to limb, and dashes
off to the ground.

The bird is uneasy - he picks pettishly, smooths
down his feathers, elevates his head slowly, and then
brings it to the earth; raises his wings as if for flight,
jumps upon the limb of a fallen tree, looks about, settles
down finally into a brown study, and evidently commences
thinking.

An hour may have elapsed - he has resolved the matter
over; his imagination has become inflamed; he has
heard just enough to wish to hear more; he is satisfied,
that no turkey-hunter uttered the sounds that
reached his ear, for they were too few and far between;
and then there rises up in his mind some disconsolate

mistress, and he gallantly flies down from his low perch,
gives his body a swaggering motion, and utters a distinct
and prolonged cluck - significant of both surprise
and joy.

On the instant, the dead twigs near by crack beneath
a heavy tread, and he starts off under the impression
that he is caught; but the meanderings of some ruminating
cow inform him of his mistake. Composing
himself, he listens - ten minutes since he challenged,
when a low cluck in the distance reaches his ears.

Now, our gobbler is an old bird, and has several times,
as if by a miracle, escaped from harm with his life; he
has grown very cunning indeed.

He will not roost two successive nights upon the
same tree, so that daylight never exposes him to the
hunter, who has hidden himself away in the night to
kill him in the morning's dawn.

He never gobbles without running a short distance
at least, as if alarmed at the noise he makes himself - he
presumes every thing is suspicious and dangerous, and
his experience has heightened the instinct.

Twice, when young, was he coaxed within gun-shot:
but got clear by some fault of the percussion-caps - after
that, he was fooled by an idle schoolboy, who was a kind
of ventriloquist, and would have been slain, had not the
urchin overloaded his gun.

Three times did he come near being killed by heedlessly
wandering with his thoughtless playfellows.

Once he was caught in a "pen," and got out by an
overlooked hole in its top.

Three feathers of last year's "fan," decayed under
the weight of a spring-trap.

All this experience has made him a "deep" bird;
and he will sit and plume himself, when common hunters
are tooting away, but never so wisely as to deceive him
twice. They all reveal themselves by overstepping the
modesty of nature, and woo him too much; his loves
are far more coy, far less intrusive.

Poor bird! he does not know that W--- is spreading
his snare for him, and is even then so sure of his
victim, as to be revolving in his mind whether his goodly
carcass should be a present to a newly-married friend,
or be served up in savory fumes, from his own bachelor
but hospitable board.

The last cluck heard by the gobbler, fairly roused
him, and he presses forward; at one time he runs with
speed; then stops as if not yet quite satisfied; something
turns him back; still he lingers only for a moment
in his course, until coming to a running stream,
where he will have to fly; the exertion seems too much
for him.

Stately parading in the full sunshine, he walks along
the margin of the clear water, admiring his fine person
as it is reflected in the sylvan mirror, and then, like
some vain lover, tosses his head, as if to say, "let them
come to me:" the listless gait is resumed, expressive
that the chase is given up.

Gaining the ascent of a low bank, that lines the
stream he has just deserted, he stops at the foot of a
young beech; in the green moss that fills the interstices
of the otherwise smooth bark is hidden away a cricket;
the turkey picks at it, without catching it; something
annoys him.

Like the slipper of Cinderella to the imagination of
the young prince, or the glimpses of a waving ringlet or
jewelled hand, to the glowing passions of a young heart,
is the remembrance of that sound, that now full two
hours since was first heard by our hero - and has been,
in that long time, but twice repeated. He speculates
that in the shady woods that surround him, there must
wander a mate; solitarily she plucks her food, and calls
for me - the monster man, impatient of his prey, doles
not out his music so softly or so daintily - I am not
deceived, and, by my ungallant fears, she will be won
by another.

Cluck. -

How well-timed the call. The gobbler now entirely
off his guard, contracts himself, opens wide his mouth,
and rolls forth, fearlessly, a volume of sound for his
answer.

The stream is crossed in a flutter, the toes scarce
indent themselves in the soft ground over which they
pass. On, on he plunges, until caution again brings
him to a halt. We could almost wish that so fine a bird
might escape - that there might be given one "call" too

much - one, that grated unnaturally on the poor bird's
ear - but not so, - they lead hilt to his doom, filling his
heart with hope and love.

To the bird there is one strange incongruity in the
"call" - never before has he gone so far with so little
success; but the note is perfect, the time most nicely
given.

Again he rolls forth a loud response, and listens -
yet no answer: his progress is still slow.

The cluck again greets his ear; there was a slight
quaver attached to it this time, like the forming of a
second note; he is nearing his object of pursuit, and
with an energetic "call;" he rushes forward, his long
neck stretched out, and his head moving inquiringly from
side to side.

No longer going round the various obstacles he
meets with in his path, but impatiently flying over them,
he comes to an open space, and stops.

Some six hundred yards from where he stands may
be seen a fallen tree; you can observe some green
brush, that looks as if it grew out of the very decayed
wood; in this "brush" is hidden away the deadly fowling
piece, and its muzzle is protruding towards the open
ground. Behind it is the hunter, flat upon the ground,
yet so placed that the weapon is at his shoulder. He
seems to be as dead as the tree in front of him. Could
you watch him closely, you would perceive that he
scarcely winks for fear of alarming his game.

The turkey, still in his exposed situation, gobbles: -
on the instant the hunter raises his "call" to his lips,
and gives a prolonged cluck - loud and shrill; the first
that could really be construed by the turkey into a direct
answer.

The noble bird, now certain of success, fairly dances
with delight; he starts forward, his feathers and neck
amorously playing as he advances; now he commences
his "strut" - his slender body swells, the beautiful plumage
of his breast Infolds itself - his neck curves, drawing
the neck downward - the wattles grow scarlet, while
the skin that covers the head changes like rainbow
tints. The long feathers of the wings brush the ground,
the tail rises and opens into a semicircle, the gorgeously
colored head becomes beautifully relieved in its centre.

On he comes, with a hitching gait, glowing in the
sunshine with purple and gold.

The siren cluck is twice repeated; he contracts his
form to the smallest dimensions; upwards rises the
head to the highest point; he stands upon his very toes,
and looks suspiciously around; fifty yards of distance
protects him from the bolt of death: he even condescends
to pick about.

What a trial for the expectant hunter! how vividly
does he recollect that one breath too much has spoiled
a morning's work!

The minutes wear on, and the bird again becomes
the caller: he gobbles. opens his form, and, when fully

SUMMER RETREAT IN ARKANSAS.

IT is not expected that a faithful description of Satan's
Summer Retreat in Arkansas, will turn aside the fashion
of two worlds, from Brighton and Bath, or from Newport
and Saratoga, although the residents in the neighborhood
of that delightful place, profess to have ocular
demonstration, as well as popular opinion that his
Satanic Majesty in warm weather regularly retires to
the "Retreat," and "there reclines" in the "cool."

The solemn grandeur that surrounds this distinguished
resort, is worthy of the hero as represented by
Milton; its characteristics are darkness, gloom and
mystery; it is environed by the unrivalled vegetation
and forest of the Mississippi valley. View it when you
will, whether decked out in all the luxuriance of a
southern summer, or stripped of its foliage by the winter's
blasts - it matters not - its grandeur is always
sombre.

The huge trees seem immortal, their roots look as
if they struck to the centre of the earth, while the
gnarled limbs reach out to the clouds. Here and there
may be seen one of these lordly specimens of vegetation,
furrowed by the lightning; from its top to the base you
can trace the subtle fluid in its descent, and see where
it shattered off the gigantic limb, or turned aside from
slight inequality in the bark.

These stricken trees, no longer able to repel the numerous
parasites that surround them, soon become festooned
with wreathes and flowers while the damp air
engenders on living tree and dead, like funereal drapery,
the pendant moss, which waves in every breeze and seems
to cover the whole scene with the gloom of the grave.

Rising out of this forest, for ten square miles, is the
dense cane-brake, that bears the name of "Satan's Summer
Retreat;" it is formed by a space of ground where,
seemingly, from its superiority of soil, more delicate
vegetation than that which surrounds it, has usurped
the empire. Here the reed, which the disciple of Izaak
Walton plays over the northern streams like a wand,
grows into a delicate mast - springing with the prodigality
of grass from the rich alluvium that gives it sustenance,
and tapering from its roots to the height of
twenty or thirty feet, it there mingles in compact and
luxuriant confusion its long leaves.

A portion of this brake is interwoven with vines of
all descriptions, which makes it so thick that it is almost

as impenetrable as a mountain. Here, in this solitude,
where the noon-day sun never penetrates, myriads
of birds, with the instinct of safety, roost at night;
and at the dawn of day for awhile darken the air as
they seek their haunts - their manure deadening like a
a fire, for acres around, the vegetation, so long have they
possessed the solitude.

Amid this mass of cane and vine, the black bear
retire for winter quarters, where they pass the season,
if not disturbed, in the insensibility of sleep, and yet
come out in the spring as fat as when they commenced
their long nap.

The forest, the waste, and the dangers of the canebrake,
but add to the excitement of the Arkansas hunter;
he conquers them all, and makes them subservient to
his pursuits. Familiar with these scenes, they to him
possess no sentiment; he builds his log cabin in a clearing
made by his own hands, amid the surrounding grandeur,
and it looks like a gypsy hut among the ruins of
a Gothic cathedral. The noblest trees to him are only
valuable for fence-rails; and the cane-brake is "an infernal
dark hole," where you can "see sights," "catch
bear," and get a "fish pole," ranging in size from a
"penny whistle to that of a young stove pipe."

The undoubted hero of Satan's Summer Retreat, is
three hundred metaphysicians consecutively. For, while
he is as bold as a lion, he is superstitious as an Indian

The exact place of his birth be cannot tell, as he says
that his parents "travelled" as long as he can remember
them. He "squatted" on the Mississippi at its nearest
point to the Retreat, and there erecting a rude camp,
commenced hunting for a living, having no prospect
ahead but selling out his "pre-emption right" and improvements,
and again squatting somewhere else.

Unfortunately, the extent of Arkansas, and the
swamp that surrounded Bob's location, kept it out of
market until, to use his own language, he "became the
ancientest inhabitant in the hull of Arkansaw." And
having, in spite of himself, gradually formed acquaintances
with the few residents in this vicinity, and grown
into importance from his knowledge of the country, and
his hunting exploits, he has established himself for life,
at what he calls the "Wasp's 'diggins;" made a potato
patch, which he has never had time to fence in; talked
largely of a cornfield; and hung his cabin round with
rifle pouches, gourds, red peppers, and flaming advertisements
with rampant horses and pedigrees; these latter
ornaments, he looks upon as rather sentimental - but
he excuses himself on the ground that they look "hoss,"
and he considers such an expression as considerably
characteristic of himself.

We have stated that Bob's mind would puzzle three
hundred metaphysicians consecutively, and we as boldly
assert that an equal number of physiologists would be
brought to a stand by his personal appearance. The

left side of his face is good looking but the right side
seems to be under the influence of an invisible air-pump;
it looks drawn out of shape; his perpendicular height
is six feet one inch, but that gives the same idea of his
length that the diameter gives of the circumference;
how long Bob Herring would be if he were drawn
out, it is impossible to tell. Bob himself says, that he
was made on too tall a scale for this world, and that he
was shoved in like the joints of a telescope, - poor in
flesh, his enormous bones and joints rattle when he
moves, and they would no doubt long since have fallen
apart, but for the enormous tendons that bind them together
as visibly as a good sized hawser would.

Such is Bob Herring, - who on a bear hunt will do
more hard work, crack more jokes, and be more active
than any man living; sustaining the whole with unflinching
good humor, never getting angry except when he
breaks his whiskey-bottle, or has a favorite dog open on
the wrong trail.

My first visit to Satan's Summer Retreat, was propitious;
my companions were all choice spirits; the
weather was fine, and Bob Herring inimitable. The
bustling scene that prefaced the "striking the camp"
for night lodgings, was picturesque and animated; a
long ride brought us to our halting-place, and there was
great relief in again stepping on the ground.

Having hoppled our horses, we nest proceeded to build
a fire, which was facilitated by taking advantage

of a dead tree for a back-log; our saddles, guns, and
other necessaries were brought within the circle of its
light, and lolling upon the ground we partook of a frugal
supper, the better to be prepared for our morrow's
exertions and our anticipated breakfast.

Beds were next made up, and few can be better than
a good supply of cane tops, covered with a blanket with
a saddle for a pillow upon such a rude couch, the
hunter sleeps more soundly than the effeminate citizen
on his down. The crescent moon with her attendant
stars, studded the canopy under which we slept, and the
blazing fire completely destroyed the chilliness of a
southern December night.

The old adage of "early to bed and early to rise"
was intended to be acted upon, that we might salute the
tardy sun with the heat of our sport; and probably we
would have carried out our intentions, had not Bob
Herring very coolly asked if any of us snored "unkimmonly
loud," for he said his old shooting iron would go
off at a good imitation of a bear's breathing. This sally
from Bob brought us all upright, and then there
commenced a series of jibes, jokes, and stories, that no
one can hear or witness except on an Arkansas hunt
with "old coons." Bob, like the immortal Jack, was
witty himself, and the cause of wit in others; but he
sustained himself against all competition, and gave in
his notions and experience with an unrivalled humor
and simplicity.

He found in me an attentive listener, and, therefore went into details, until he talked every one but myself
asleep.

From general remarks, he changed to addressing me
personally, and as I had every thing to learn, he went
from the elementary, to the most complex experience.

"You are green in bar hunting," said he to me, in a
commiserating tone - "green as a jimson weed - but
don't get short-winded 'bout it, case it's a thing like
readin', to be l'arnt; - a man don't come it perfectly at
once, like a dog does; and as for that, they l'arn a heap
in time; - thar is a greater difference 'tween a pup and
an old dog on a bar hunt, than thar is 'tween a militia
man and a regler. I remember when I couldn't bar
hunt, though the thing seems onpossible now; it only
takes time - a true eye and a steady hand, though I did
know a fellow that called himself a doctor, who said you
could'nt do it, if you was narvious.

"I asked him if he meant by that, agee and
fever!

"He said, it was the agee without the fever.

"Thar may be such a thing as narvious, stranger,
but nothing but a yarth quake, or the agee can shake me;
and still bar hunting aint as easy as scearing a wild turkey,
by a long shot.

"The varmint sent a hog, to run with a--w--h--e--w;
just corner one - cotch its cub, or cripple
it, and if you don't have to fight, or get out of the way,

then thar sent no cat-fish in the Mississip. I larnt that
nih twenty year ago, and, perhaps, you would like to
know about it." Signifying my assent, Bob Herring
got up on his bed - for as it was upon the bare ground,
he could not well get off of it, - and, approaching the fire,
he threw about a cord of wood upon it, in the form of a
few huge logs; as they struck the blazing heap, the sparks
flew upwards in the clear cold air, like jets of stars;
then, fixing himself most comfortably, he detailed what
follows:

"I had a knowin old sow on a time, that would have
made a better hunter than any dog ever heer'd on -
she had such a nose, - talk 'bout a dog following a cold
trail - she'd track a bar through running water. Well
you see afor' I know'd her vartu', she came running
into my cabin, bristles up, and fell on the floor,
from what I now believe, to have been a regular scear.
I thought she'd seen a bar, for nothing else could make
her run; and, taking down my rifle, I went out sort a
carelessly, with only two dogs at my heels. I hadn't
gone far 'fore I saw a bar, sure enough, quietly standing
beside a small branch - it was an old He, and no mistake.

"I crawled up to him on my hands and knees, and
raised my rifle, but had I fired, I must have hit him so
far in front, that the ball would have ranged back and
not cut his mortals. I waited - and he turned tail towards
me, and started across the branch afeer'd I'd lose
him, I blazed away, and a sort of cut him slantingdicularly

through his hauls, and brought him down; thar he
not looking like a sick nigger with the dropsy, or a black
tale of cotton turned up on end. It was not a judgematical
shot, and Smith thar," pointing at one of the
sleeping hunters, "would say so."

Hereupon Bob Herring, without any ceremony,
seized a long stick and thrust it into Smith's short ribs,
who thus suddenly awakened from a sound sleep, seized
his knife, and, fooling about him, asked confusedly
what was the matter?

"Would you," inquired Bob, very leisurely, "would
you - under any carcumstances, shoot an old He in the hams?"
Smith, very peremptorily, told his questioner to go
where the occupier of the Retreat in summer, is supposed
to reside through the winter months, and went instantly
to sleep again.

Bob continued - "Stranger, the bar - as I have said,
was on his hams, and thar he sot - waiting to whip
somebody, and not knowing where to begin; when the
two dogs that followed me came up, and pitched into
him like a caving bank - I know'd the result afore the
fight began; Blucher had his whole scalp, ears and all,
hanging over his nose in a minute, and Tige', was lying
some distance from the bar on his back, breathing like
a horse with the thumps; he wiped them both out with
one stroke of his left paw, and thar he sot - knowing as
well as I did, that he was not obliged to the dogs for

the hole in his carcass - and thar I stood like a fool -
rifle in hand, watching him, instead of giving him another
ball. All of a sudden he caught a glimpse of my
hunting shirt, and the way that he walked at me on his
two fore legs, was a caution to slow dogs.

"I fired, and instantly steps round behind the trunk
of a large tree; my second shot confused the bar, and
as he was hunting about for me, just as I was patching
my ball, he again saw me, and, with his ears nailed
back to his head, he gave the d----t w--h--e--w I ever
heard, and made straight at me; I leapt up a bank
near by, and as I gained the top, my foot touched the eend of his nose.

"If I ever had the 'narvious,' stranger, that was
the time, for the skin of my face seemed an inch thick,
and my eyes had more rings in them than a wild cat's.

"At this moment, several of my dogs, that war out
on an expedition of their own, came up, and immediately
made battle with the bar, who shook off the dogs in a
flash, and made agin at me; the thing was done so
quick, that as I raised my rifle, I stepped back and fell
over, and, thinking my time was come, wished that I
had been born to be hung, and not chaw'd up; but the
bar didn't cotch me; his hind quarters, as he came at
me, fell into a hole about a root, and caught: I was on
my feet, and out of his reach in a wink, but as quick as
I did this. he had cut through a green root the size of
my leg, he did it in about two snaps, but, weakened by

the exertion, the dogs got hold of him, and held on
while I blowed his heart out. Ever since that time, I
have been wide awake with a wounded bar - sartainty
or stand off, being my motto.

"I shall dream of that bar to-night," concluded
Bob, fixing his blanket over him; and a few moments
only elapsed before he was in danger of his life, if his
rifle would go off, as he had said, at a good imitation
of a bear's breathing.

Fortunately for me, the sun on the following morn
was fairly above the horizon before our little party was
ready for the start. While breakfast was being prepared,
the rifles were minutely examined; some were
taken apart, and every precaution used to insure a quick
and certain fire. A rude breakfast having been despatched,
lots were drawn who should go into the drive
with the dogs, as this task in Satan's Summer Retreat
is any thing but a pleasant one, being obliged often to
walk on the bending cane, which is so thick for hundreds
of yards that you cannot touch or see the ground,
- then crawling on your hands and knees between roots,
you are sometimes brought to a complete halt, and
obliged to cut your way through with the knife. While
this is going on, the hunters are at the stands, places
which their judgments dictate as most likely to be
passed by the bear when roused by the dogs.

Two miles might, on this occasion, have been passed
over by those in the drive in the course of three hours,

and yet, although signs were plenty as "leaves," not a
bear was started. Hard swearing was heard, and as the
vines encircled the feet, or caught one under the nose,
it was increased.

In the midst of this ill humor, a solitary bark was
heard, - some one exclaimed, that was Bose! - another
shrill yelp - that sounded like Music's; - breathing was
almost suspended in the excitement of the moment, -
presently another and another bark was heard in quick
succession - in a minute more the whole pack of thirty-
five stanch dogs opened!

The change from silence to so much noise, made it
almost deafening. Nothing but personal demonstration
could give an idea of the effect upon the mind of such a
pack baying a bear in a cane-brake. Before me were old
hunters; they had been moving along as if destitute of
energy or feeling; but now, their eyes flashed, their
lips were compressed, and their cheeks flushed; they
seemed incapable of fatigue. As for myself, my feelings
almost overcame me. I felt a cold sweat stealing down
my back, my breath was thick and hot, and as I suspended
it, to hear more distinctly the fight, - for by this
time the dogs had evidently come up with the bear - I
could hear the pulsation of my heart.

One minute more to listen - to learn in which direction
the war was raging - and then our party unanimously
sent forth a yell that would have frightened a nation
of Indians

The bear was in his bed when the dogs first came
up, with him, and did not leave it until the pack surrounded
him; then finding things rather too warm, he
broke off with a "whew" that was awful to hear.

His course was towards us on the left, and as he
went by, the cane cracked and smashed as if rode over
by an insane locomotive. Bob Herring gave the dogs
a salute as they passed close at the beast's heels, and
the noise increased, until he said, "it sounded as if all
h-ll were pounding bark."

The bear was commented on as he rushed by; one
said he was a "buster ;" "a regular-built eight year
old" said another; "fat as a candle," shouted a third;
- "he's the beauty of Satan's Summer Retreat, with a
band of music after him," sang Bob Herring.

Out of his lair the bear plunged so swiftly, that our
greatest exertions scarcely enabled us to keep within
hearing distance; his course carried him towards those
at the stands, he turned and exactly retraced his course,
but not with the same speed; want of breath had several
times brought him to a stand, and a fight with the dogs.
He passed us the second time within two hundred yards,
and coming against a fallen tree, backed up against it,
showing a determination, if necessary, there to die.

We made our way towards the spot as fast as the
obstacles in our way would let us; the hunters anxious
to dispatch him, that few dogs as possible might be
sacrificed. The few minutes necessary to accomplish

this, seemed an age - the fight all the time sounding
terrible, for every now and then the bear evidently made
a rush at the dogs as they narrowed their circle, or came
individually, too near his person.

Crawling through and over the cane-brake, was a
new thing to me, and in the prevailing excitement my
feet seemed tied together, and there was always a vine
directly under my chin to cripple my exertions. While
thus struggling, I heard a suspicious cracking in my
ear, and looking round, I saw Bob Herring a foot taller
than usual, stalking over the cane like a colossus; he
very much facilitated my progress by a shove in the
rear.

"Come along, stranger," he shouted, his voice as clear as
a bell, "come along; the bar and the dogs are
going it like a high-pressure political meeting, and I
must be thar to put in a word, sartain."

Fortunately for my wind, I was nearer the contest
than I imagined, for Bob Herring stopped just ahead of
me, examined his rifle, with two or three other hunters
just arrived from the stands, and by peeping through
the undergrowth, we discovered within thirty yards of
us, the fierce raging fight.

Nothing distinctly, however, was seen; a confused
mass of legs, heads, and backs of dogs, flying about as
if attached to a ball, was all we could make out. On
still nearer approach, confusion would clear off for a
moment, and the head of the bear could be seen, his

tongue covered with dust and hanging a foot from his
mouth; his jaws covered with foam and blood, and his
eyes almost protruding from their sockets, while his
cars were so closely pressed to the back of his head,
that he seemed destitute of those appendages; the whole,
indicative of unbounded rage and terror. These
glimpses of the bear were only momentary, his persecutors
rested but for a breath, and then closed in, regardless
of their own lives; for you could discover, mingled
with the sharp bark of defiance, the yell that told
of death.

It was only while the bear was crushing some luckless
dog, that they could cover his back, and lacerate it with
their teeth. Bob Herring, and one of the hunters, in
spite of the danger, crept upon their knees, so near,
that it seemed as if another foot advanced would bring
them within the circle of the fight.

Bob Herring was first, within safe shooting distance
to save the dogs, and, waving his hand to those behind
him, he raised his rifle and sighted; but his favorite dog,
impatient for the report, anticipated it by jumping on
the bear, which, throwing up his head at the same instant,
received the ball in his nose; at the crack of the
rifle - the well trained dogs, thinking less caution than otherwise necessary, jumped pell-mell on the bear's
back, and the hardest fight ever witnessed in Summer
Retreat ensued; the haunter with Bob, placed his gun
almost against the bear's side, and the cap snapped - no

Bob Herring's long blade was already flashing in
his hand, but sticking a live bear is not child's play; he
was standing undecided, when he saw the hind legs of
Bose upwards; thrusting aside one or two of the dogs
with his hand, he made a pass at the bear's throat, but
the animal was so quick, that he struck the knife with
his fore paw, and sent it whirling into the cane; another
was instantly handed Bob, which he thrust at the bear,
but the point was so blunt, that it would not penetrate
the skin.

Foiled a third time, with a tremendous oath on himself,
and the owner of a knife, "that wouldn't stick a
cabbage," he threw it indignantly from him, and seizing,
unceremoniously, a rifle, just then brought up by one of
the party, heretofore in the rear; he, utterly regardless
of his own legs, thrust it against the side of the bear
with considerable force, and blowed him through; the
bear struggled but for a moment, and fell dead.

"I saw snakes last night in my dreams," said Bob,
handing back the rifle to its owner - "and I never had
any good luck the next day, arter sich a sarcumstance -
I call this hull hunt about as mean an affair as damp
powder; that bar thar," pointing to the carcass, "that
bar thar ought to have been killed afore he maimed a
dog.

Then, speaking energetically, he said, "Boys,
never fire at a bar's head, even if your iron is in his
ear its unsartain; look how I missed the brain, and
only tore the smellers; with fewer dogs, and sich a
shot, a fellow would be ripped open in a powder flash;
and I say, cuss caps, and head shooting; they would
have cost two lives to-day, but for them ar blessed
dogs."

With such remarks Bob Herring beguiled away the
time, while he, with others, skinned the bear. His huge
carcass when dressed, though not over fat, looked like a
huge young steer's. The dogs, as they recovered breath,
partook of the refuse with a relish; the nearest possible
route out of the Retreat was selected, and two horse
loads took the meat into the open woods, where it was
divided out in such a manner, that it could be taken
home.

Bob Herring, while the dressing of the bear was going
on, took the skin, and, on its inside surface, which
glistened like satin, he carefully deposited the caul fat,
and beside it the liver - the choice parts of the bear, according
to the gourmand notions of the frontier, were in
Bob's possession; and many years' experience had made
him so expert in cooking it, that he was locally famed
for this matter above all competitors.

It would be as impossible to give the recipe for this
dish, so that it might be followed by the gastronomers

of cities, as it would to have the articles composing it
exposed for sale in the markets.

Bob Herring managed it as follows: he took a long
wooden skewer, and having thrust its point through a
small piece of the liver fat, he then followed it by a
small piece of the liver, then the fat, then the liver, and
so, on, until his most important material was consumed;
when this was done, he opened the "bear's handkerchief,"
or caul, and wrapped it round the whole, and
thus roasted it before the fire. Like all the secrets in
cookery, this dish depends, for its flavor and richness,
upon giving exactly the proper quantities, as a superabundance
of one, or the other, would completely spoil
the dish.

"I was always unlucky, boys," said Bob -
throwing the bear skin and its contents over his
shoulders, "but I have had my fill often of caul fat and
liver - many a man who thinks he's lucky, lives and dies
as ignorant of its virtue, as a possum is of corn cake.
If I ever look dead, boys, don't bury me until you see I
don't open my eyes when the caul fat and liver is ready
for eating; if I don't move when you show me it, then
I am a done goner, sure."

Night closed in before we reached our homes - the
excitement of the morning wore upon our spirits and
energy, but the evening's meal of caul fat and liver,
and other "fixins," or Bob Herring's philosophical remarks,

TOM OWEN, THE BEE-HUNTER.

As a country becomes cleared up and settled, bee-hunters
disappear, consequently they are seldom or never
noticed beyond the immediate vicinity of their homes.
Among this backwoods fraternity, have flourished men
of genius, in their way, who have died unwept and unnoticed,
while the heroes of the turf, and of the chase,
have been lauded to the skies for every trivial superiority,
they may have displayed in their respective pursuits.

To chronicle the exploits of sportsmen is commendable
- the custom began as early as the days of the antediluvians,
for we read, that "Nimrod was a mighty
hunter before the Lord." Familiar, however, as Nimrod's
name may be - or even Davy Crockett's - how unsatisfactory
their records, when we reflect that Tom
Owen, the bee-hunter, is comparatively unknown?

time that he could stand alone until the present time,
and not a pen has inked paper to record his exploits.
"Solitary and alone" has he traced his game through
the mazy labyrinth of air; marked, I hunted; - I found;
- I conquered; - upon the carcasses of his victims, and
then marched homeward with his spoils: quietly and
satisfiedly, sweetening his path through life; and, by its
very obscurity, adding the principal element of the sublime.

It was on a beautiful southern October morning, at
the hospitable mansion of a friend, where I was staying
to drown dull care, that I first had the pleasure of seeing
Tom Owen.

He was, on this occasion, straggling up the rising
ground that led to the hospitable mansion of mine host,
and the difference between him and ordinary men was
visible at a glance; perhaps it showed itself as much in
the perfect contempt of fashion that he displayed in the
adornment of his outward man, as it did in the more elevated
qualities of his mind, which were visible in his
face. His head was adorned with an outlandish pattern
of a hat - his nether limbs were encased by a pair of
inexpressibles, beautifully fringed by the briar-bushes
through which they were often drawn; coats and vests,
he considered as superfluities; hanging upon his back
were a couple of pails, and an axe in his right hand,
formed the varieties that represented the corpus of Tom
Owen.

As is usual with great men, he had his followers,
who, with a courtier-like humility depended upon the
expression of his face for all their hopes of success.

The usual salutations of meeting were sufficient to
draw me within the circle of his influence, and I at once
became one of his most ready followers.

"See yonder!" said Tom, stretching his long arm
into infinite space, "see yonder-there's a bee."

We all looked in the direction he pointed, but that was
the extent of our observation.

"It was a fine bee," continued Tom, "black body,
yellow legs, and went into that tree," - pointing to a towering
oak, blue in the distance. "In a clear day I can
see a bee over a mile, easy!"

When did Coleridge "talk" like that? And yet
Tom Owen uttered such a saying with perfect ease.

After a variety of meanderings through the thick
woods, and clambering over fences, we came to our place
of destination, as pointed out by Tom, who selected a
mighty tree containing sweets, the possession of which
the poets have likened to other sweets that leave a sting
behind.

The felling of a mighty tree is a sight that calls up
a variety of emotions; and Tom's game was lodged in
one of the finest in the forest. But "the axe was laid
at the root of the tree," which, in Tom's mind, was made
expressly for bees to build their nests in, that he might
cut them down, and obtain possession of their honeyed

treasure. The sharp axe, as it played in the hands of
Tom, was replied to by a stout negro from the opposite
side of the tree, and their united strokes fast gained
upon the heart of their lordly victim.

There was little poetry in the thought, that long
before this mighty empire of States was formed, Tom
Owen's "bee-hive" had stretched its brawny arms to the
winter's blast, and grown green in the summer's sun.

Yet such was the case, and how long I might have
moralized I know not, had not the enraged buzzing
about my ears satisfied me that the occupants of the tree
were not going to give up their home and treasure, without
showing considerable practical fight. No sooner had
the little insects satisfied themselves that they were
about to be invaded, than they began, one after another,
to descend from their airy abode, and fiercely pitch into
our faces; anon a small company, headed by an old veteran,
would charge with its entire force upon all parts
of our body at once.

It need not be said that the better part of valor was
displayed by a precipitate retreat from such attacks.

In the midst of this warfare, the tree began to tremble
with the fast-repeated strokes of the axe, and then
might have been seen a "bee line" of stingers precipitating
themselves from above, on the unfortunate hunter
beneath.

Now it was that Tom shone forth in his glory, for
his partisans - like many hangers-on about great men,

began to desert him on the first symptoms of danger;
and when the trouble thickened they, one and all, took
to their heels, and left only our hero and Sambo to
fight the adversaries. Sambo, however, soon dropped
his axe, and fell into all kinds of contortions; first he
would seize the back of his neck with his hands, then his
legs, and yell with pain. "Never holler till you get
out of the woods," said the sublime Tom, consolingly;
but writhe the negro did, until he broke, and left Tom
"alone in his glory."

Cut, - thwack! sounded through the confused hum
at the foot of the tree, marvellously reminding me of the
interruptions that occasionally broke in upon the otherwise
monotonous hours of my schoolboy days.

A sharp cracking finally told me the chopping was
done, and, looking aloft, I saw the mighty tree balancing
in the air. Slowly, and majestically, it bowed for
the first time towards its mother earth,-gaining velocity
as it descended, it shivered the trees that interrupted
its downward course, and falling with thundering
sound, splintered its mighty limbs, and buried them
deeply in the ground.

The sun, for the first time in at least two centuries,
broke uninterruptedly through the chasm made in the
forest, and shone with splendor upon the magnificent
Tom, standing a conqueror among his spoils.

As might be expected, the bees were very much
astonished and confused, and by their united voices proclaimed

death, had it been in their power, to all their
foes, not, of course, excepting Tom Owen himself. But
the wary hunter was up to the tricks of his trade, and,
like a politician, he knew how easily an enraged mob
could be quelled with smoke; and smoke he tried, until
his enemies were completely destroyed.

We, Tom's hangers-on, now approached his treasure.
It was a rich one, and, as he observed, "contained a
rich chance of plunder." Nine feet, by measurement,
of the hollow of the tree was full, and this afforded
many pails of pure honey.

Tom was liberal and supplied us all with more than
we wanted, and "toted," by the assistance of Sambo,
his share to his own home, soon to be devoured, and
soon to be replaced by the destruction of another tree,
and another nation of bees.

Thus Tom exhibited within himself an unconquerable
genius which would have immortalized him, had he
directed it in following the sports of Long Island or
New Market.

We have seen the great men of the southern turf
glorying around the victories of their favorite sport, -
we have heard the great western hunters detail the soul-
stirring adventures of a bear-hunt - we have listened,
with almost suffocating interest, to the tale of a Nantucket
seaman, while he portrayed the death of a mighty
whale - and we have also seen Tom Owen triumphantly
engaged in a bee-hunt - we beheld and wondered at the

ARROW-FISHING.

IN treating of the most beautiful and novel sport of
arrow-fishing, its incidents are so interwoven with ten
thousand accessories, that we scarce know how to separate
our web, without either breaking it, or destroying a
world of interest hidden among the wilds of the American
forest.

The lakes over which the arrow-fisher twangs his
bow, in the pleasant spring-time; have disappeared long
before the sere and yellow leaf of autumn appears, and
the huntsman's horn, and the loud-mouthed pack, clamor
melodiously after the scared deer upon their bottoms.

To explain this phenomenon, the lover of nature
must follow us until we exhibit some of the vagaries of
the great Mississippi, and, having fairly got our "flood
and field" before us, we will engage heartily in the
sport.

If you will descend with me from slightly broken
ground through which I have been riding, covered
with forest trees singularly choked up with undergrowth,
to an expanse of country beautifully open between the
trees, the limbs of which start out from the trunk some
thirty feet above the ground, you will find at your feet
an herbage that is luxuriant, but scanty; high over your
head, upon the trees, you will perceive a line, marking
what has evidently been an overflow of water; you can
trace the beautiful level upon the trunks of the trees, as
far as the eye can reach.

It is in the fall of the year, and a squirrel drops an
acorn upon your shoulder, and about your feet are the
sharp-cut tracks of the nimble deer. You are standing
in the centre of what is called, by hunters, a "dry
lake."

As the warm air of April favors the opening flowers
of spring, the waters of the Mississippi, increased by
the melting snows of the North, swell within its low
banks, and rush in a thousand streams back into the
swamps and lowlands that lie upon its borders; the torrent
sweeps along into the very reservoir in which we
stand, and the waters swell upwards until they find a
level with the fountain itself. Thus is formed the arrow-
fisher's lake.

The brawny oak, the graceful pecan, the tall poplar,
and delicate beech spring from its surface in a thousand
tangled limbs, looking more beautiful, yet most unnatural,

as the water reflects them downwards, hiding completely
away their submerged trunks. The arrow-fisher
now peeps in the nest of the wild bird from his little
boat, and runs its prow plump into the hollow, that
marks the doorway of some cunning squirrel.

In fact, he navigates for awhile his bark where, in
the fall of the year, the gay-plumed songster and the
hungry hawk plunge mid-air, and float not more swiftly
nor gayly, on light pinioned wings, than he in his swift
canoe.

A chapter from nature: and who unfolds the great
book so understandingly, and learns so truly from its
wisdom, as the piscator?

a, The level of the Mississippi, at its ordinary stage of water.
b, The height of the spring rise. c, d, The "dry lakes." By examination
of the above drawing, an idea may be formed of the
manner of the rises of the Mississippi. The observer will notice
that when the water is at a, the lakes c and d will be dry, affording
a fine hunting-ground for deer,&c. When the water is at
b, the lakes are formed, and arrow-fishing is pursued. (See description.)
A correct idea may also be formed by what is meant
by a water-line on the trees, indicating the last rise; the water-
line will be formed of the sediment settling on the trees at the
line b, marked above.

a, The level of the Mississippi, at its ordinary stage of water. b, The
height of the spring rise. c,
d, The "dry lakes." By examination of the above drawing, an idea may be
formed of the manner of
the rises of the Mississippi. The observer will notice that when the water
is at a, the lakes c and d
will be dry, affording a fine hunting-ground for deer,&c. When the water
is at b, the lakes are
formed, and arrow-fishing is pursued. (See description.) A correct idea
may also be formed by
what is meant by a water-line on the trees, indicating the last rise; the
water-line will be formed of
the sediment settling on the trees at the line b, marked above.

The rippling brook, as it dances along in the sunshine,
bears with it the knowledge, there is truthfulness
in water, though it be not in a well. We can find
something, if we will, to love and admire under every
wave; and the noises of every tiny brook are tongues
that speak eloquently to nature's true priests.

We have marked, that with the rise of the waters,
the fish grow gregarious, and that they rush along in
schools with the waters that flow inland from the river,
- they thus choose these temporary sylvan lakes as
depositories of their spawn; thus wittingly providing
against that destruction that would await their young,
in the highways of their journeyings.

It is a sight to wonder at, in the wilds of the primitive
forest, to see the fish rushing along the narrow inlets,
with the current, in numbers incredible to the imagination,
leaping over the fallen tree that is only half
buried in the surface of the stream, or stayed a moment
in their course by the meshes of the strong net, either
bursting it by force of numbers, or granting its wasteful
demands by thousands, without seemingly to diminish
the multitude, more than a single leaf taken from the
forest would perceptibly alter the vegetation.

We have marked, too, that these fish would besport
themselves in their new homes, secluding themselves in
the shadows of the trees and banks; and, as the summer
heats come on, they would grow unquiet; the outlets
leading to the great river they had left would be

thronged by what seemed to be busy couriers; and
when the news finally spread of falling water, one night
would suffice to make the lake, before so thronged with
finny life, deserted; and a few nights only, perhaps, would
pass, when the narrow bar would intrude itself between
the inland lake and the river, that supplied it with
water.

Such was the fish's wisdom, seen and felt, where
man, with his learning and his nicely-wrought mechanisms,
would watch in vain the air, the clouds, and see
"no signs" of falling water.*

Among arrow-fishermen there are technicalities, an
understanding of which will give a more ready idea of
the sport. The surfaces of these inland lakes are unruffled
by the winds or storms; the heats of the sun
seem to rest upon them; they are constantly sending
into the upper regions, warm mists. Their surfaces,

* It may not be uninteresting to naturalists to be informed,
that these fish run into the inland lakes to, spawn, and they do
it of course with the rise of the water. These overflows are
annual. A few years since the season was very singular, and
there were three distinct rises and falls of water, and at each
rise the fish followed the water inland, and spawned a remarkable
example where the usual order of nature was reversed in
one instance, and yet continuing blindly consistent in another.
It is also very remarkable that the young fish, native of the
lakes, are as interested to mark the indications of falling water
as those that come into them; and in a long series of years of
observation, but one fall was ever known before the fish had
left the lakes. Page 59

however, are covered with innumerable bubbles, either
floating about, or breaking into little circling ripples.

To the superficial observer, these air-bubbles mean
little or nothing; to the arrow-fisherman they are the
very language of his art; visible writing upon the unstable
water, unfolding the secrets of the depths below,
and guiding him, with unerring certainty, in his pursuits.

Seat yourself quietly in this little skiff, and while I
paddle quietly out into the lake, I will translate to you
these apparent wonders, and give you a lesson in the
simple language of nature.

"An air-bubble is an air-bubble," you say, and
"your fine distinctions must be in the imagination."

Well! then mark how stately ascends that large
globule of air; if you will time each succeeding one by
your watch, you will find that while they appear, it is at
regular intervals, and when they burst upon the surface
of the water, there is the least spray in the world sparkling
for an instant in the sun. Now, yonder, if you will
observe, are very minute bubbles that seem to simmer
towards the surface. Could you catch the air of the
first bubble we noticed, and give it to an ingenious
chemist, he would tell you that it was a light gas, that
exhaled from decaying vegetable matter.

The arrow-fisherman will tell you that it comes from
an old stump, and is denominated a dead bubble. That
"simmering" was made by some comfortable turtle, as

Look ahead of you: when did you ever see an Archimedean
screw more beautifully marked out than by
that group of bubbles? They are very light, indeed,
and seem thus gracefully to struggle into the upper
world; they denote the eager workings of some terrapin
in the soft mud at the bottom of the lake. In the shade
of yonder lusty oak, you will perceive what arrow-fishermen
call a "feed;" you see that the bubbles are entirely
unlike any we have noticed; they come rushing upwards
swiftly, like handfuls of silver shot. They are lively
and animated to look at, and are caused by the fish below,
as they, around the root of that very oak, search
for insects for food. To those bubbles the arrow-fisherman
hastens for game; they are made by the fish that
he calls legitimate for his sport.

In early spring the fish are discovered, not only by
the bubbles they make, but by various sounds, uttered
while searching for food. These sounds are familiarized,
and betray the kind of fish that make them. In
late spring, from the middle of May to June, the fish
come near the surface of the water, and expose their
mouths to the air, keeping up, at the same time, a constant
motion with it, called "piping."

Fish thus exposed are in groups, and are called a
"float." The cause of this phenomenon is hard to explain,
all reasons given being unsatisfactory. As it is

only exhibited in the hottest of weather, it may be best
accounted for in the old verse:

"The sun, from its perpendicular height
Illumined the depths of the sea;
The fishes, beginning to sweat,
Cry, 'Dang it, how hot we shall be!'"

There are several kinds of fish that attract the attention
of the arrow-fishermen. Two kinds only are
professedly pursued, the "carp" and the "buffalo."
Several others, however, are attacked for the mere purpose
of amusement, among which we may mention a species
of perch, and the most extraordinary of all fish, the
"gar."

The carp is a fish known to all anglers. Its habits
must strike every one familiar with them, as being eminently
in harmony with the retreats we have described.
In these lakes they vary in weight from five to thirty
pounds, and are preferred by arrow-fishermen to all
other fish.

The "buffalo," a sort of fresh-water sheep's-head, is
held next in estimation. A species of perch is also
taken, that vary from three to ten pounds, in weight;
but as they are full of bones and coarse in flesh, they
are killed simply to test the skill of the arrow fisherman.*

*The carp, to which we allude, is so accurately described in
its habits in "Blane's Encyclopedia of Rural Sports," when
speaking of the European carp, that we are tempted to make
one or two extracts that are remarkable for their truthfulness
as applied to the section of the United States where arrow-
fishing is a sport. In the work we allude to, we have the following:
"The usual length of the carp in our own country (England)
is from about twelve to fifteen or sixteen inches; but in warm
climates, it often arrives at the length of two, three, or four feet
and to the weight of twenty, thirty, or even forty pounds."
Par. 3448. Again, "The haunts of the carp of stagnant water
are, during the spring and autumn months, in the deepest parts,
particularly near the flood-gates by which water is received and
let off. In the summer months they frequent the weed beds,
and come near to the surface, and particularly are fond of aquatic
plants, which spring from the bottom and rise to the top." Par.
3453. We find that the fish retains the same distinctive habits
in both hemispheres, altering only from the peculiarities of the
country. Page 62

The incredible increase of fishes has been a matter
of immemorial observation. In the retired lakes and
streams we speak of, but for a wise arrangement of
Providence, it seems not improbable that they would
outgrow the very space occupied by the element in
which they exist. To prevent this consummation, there
are fresh water fiends, more terrible than the wolves and
tigers of the land, that prowl on the finny tribe, with an
appetite commensurate with their plentifulness, destroying
millions in a day, yet leaving, from their abundance,
untold numbers to follow their habits and the cycle of
their existence undisturbed. These terrible destroyers
have no true representatives in the sea; they seem to
be peculiar to waters tributary to the Mississippi.

There are two kinds of them, alike in office, but distinct
in species; they are known by those who fish in the
streams which they inhabit as the "gar." They are, when
grown to their full size, twelve or fifteen feet in length,
voracious monsters to look at, so well made for strength,
so perfectly protected from assault; so capable of inflicting
injury. The smaller kind, growing not larger than
six feet, have a body that somewhat resembles in form
the pike, covered by what looks more like large, flat
heads of wrought iron, than scales, which it is impossible
to remove without cutting them out-they are so
deeply imbedded in the flesh. The jaws of this monster,
form about one fourth of its whole length; they are
shaped like the bill of a goose, armed in the interior
with triple rows of teeth, as sharp, and well set, as those
of a saw.

But the terror, is the "alligator gar," a monster that
seems to combine all the most destructive powers of the
shark and reptile. The alligator gar grows to the
enormous length of fifteen feet; its head resembles the
alligator's; within its wide-extended jaws glisten innumerable
rows of teeth, running, in solid columns,
down into its very throat. Blind in its instinct to destroy,
and singularly tenacious of life, it seems to prey
with untiring energy, and with an appetite that is increased
by gratification.

Such are the fish, that are made victims of the mere
sport of the arrow-fisherman.

The implements of the arrow-fisherman are a strong
bow, five or six feet long, made of black locust or of
cedar (the latter being preferred), and an arrow of ash,
three feet long, pointed with an iron spear of peculiar
construction. The spear is eight inches long, one end
has a socket, in which is fitted loosely the wooden shaft;
theca other end is a flattened point; back of this point
there is inserted the barb, which shuts into the iron as
it enters an object, but will open if attempted to be
drawn out. The whole of this iron-work weighs three
ounces. A cord, about the size of a crow-quill, fifteen
or twenty feet long, is attached to the spear, by which
is held the fish when struck.

Of the water-craft used in arrow-fishing, much might
be said, as it introduces the common Indian canoe, or as
it is familiarly termed, the "dug out," which is nothing
more than a trunk of a tree, shaped according to the humor
or taste of its artificer, and hollowed out.

We have seen some of these rude barks that claimed
but one degree of beauty or utility beyond the common
log, and we have seen others as gracefully turned as was
ever the bosom of the loving swan, and that would, as
gracefully as Leda's bird, spring through the rippling
waves.

The arrow-fisher prefers a canoe with very little rake,
quite flat on the bottom, and not more than fifteen feet
long, so as to be quickly turned. Place in this simple
craft the simpler paddle, lay beside it the arrow, the
bow, the cord, and you have the whole outfit of the arrow-
fisherman.

To the uninitiated, the guidance of a canoe is a mystery.
The grown-up man, who first attempts to move on
skates over the glassy ice, has a command of his limbs
and a power of locomotion, that the novice in canoe navigation
has not. Never at rest, it seems to rush from
under his feet; overbalanced by an overdrawn breath,
it precipitates its victim into the water. Every effort
renders it more and more unmanageable, until it is condemned
as worthless.

But, let a person accustomed to its movements take
it in charge, and it gayly launches into the stream;
whether standing or sitting, the master has it entirely
under his control, moving any way with a quickness, a
pliability, quite wonderful, forward, sideways, backwards;
starting off in an instant, or while at the greatest
speed, instantly stopping still, and doing all this
more perfectly, than with any other water-craft of the
world.

In arrow-fishing, two persons are only employed;
each one has his work designated - "the paddler" and
"bowman."

had, so that their movements are governed by signs.
The delicate canoe is pushed into the lake, its occupants
scarcely breathe to get it balanced, the paddler is seated
in its bottom, near its centre, where he remains, governing
the canoe in all its motions, without ever taking the
paddle from the water.

The fisherman stands at the bow; around the wrist
of his left hand is fastened, by a loose loop, the cord attached
to the arrow, which cord is wound around the
forefinger of the same hand, so that when paying off, it
will do so easily. In the same hand is, of course, held
the bow. In the right is carried the arrow, and, by its
significant pointing, the paddler gives directions for the
movements of the canoe.

The craft glides along, scarcely making a ripple; a
"feed" is discovered, over which the canoe stops; the
bowman draws his arrow to the head; the game, disturbed,
is seen in the clear water rising slowly and perpendicularly,
but otherwise perfectly motionless; the
arrow speeds its way; in an instant the shaft shoots
into the air, and floats quietly away, while the wounded
fish, carrying the spear in its body, endeavours to
escape.

The "pull" is managed so as to come directly from
the bow of the canoe; it lasts but for a moment before
the transfixed fish is seen, fins playing, and full of agonizing life,
dancing on the top of the water, and in another
instant more lies dead at the bottom of the canoe.

The shaft is then gone after, picked up, and thrust into
the spear; the cord is again adjusted, and the canoe
moves towards the merry makers of those swift ascending
bubbles, so brightly displaying themselves on the
edge of that deep shade, cast by yonder evergreen oak.

There is much in the associations of arrow-fishing
that gratifies taste, and makes it partake of a refined
and intellectual character. Beside the knowledge it
gives of the character of fishes, it practices one in the
curious refractions of water. Thus will the arrow-fisherman,
from long experience, drive his pointed shaft a
fathom deep for game, when it would seem, to the novice,
that a few inches would be more than sufficient.

Again, the waters that supply the arrow-fisherman
with game, afford subsistence to innumerable birds, and
he has exhibited before him, the most beautiful displays
of their devices to catch the finny tribe.

The kingfisher may be seen the livelong day, acting
a prominent part, bolstering up its fantastic topknot, as
if to apologize for a manifest want of neck; you can
hear him always scolding and clamorous among the low,
brush, and overhanging limits of trees, eyeing the minnows
as they glance along the shore, and making vain
essays to fasten them in his bill.

The hawk, too, often swoops down from the clouds,
swift as the bolt of Jove; the cleft air whistles in the
flight; the sportive fish, playing in the sunlight, is
snatched up in the rude talons, and home aloft, the

reeking water from its scaly sides falling in soft spray
upon the upturned eye that traces its daring course.
But we treat of fish, and not of birds.

Yonder is our canoe; the paddle has stopped it
short, just where you see those faint bubbles; the water
is very deep beneath them, and reflects the frail bark
and its occupants, as clearly as if they were floating in
mid air. The bowman looks into the water - the fish
are out of sight, and not disturbed by the intrusion
above them. They are eating busily, judging from the
ascending bubbles.

The bowman lets fall the "heel" of his arrow on
the bottom of the canoe, and the bubbles instantly cease.
The slight tap has made a great deal of noise in the
water, though scarcely heard out of it. There can be
seen rising to the surface a tremendous carp. How quietly
it comes upwards, its pectoral fins playing like the
wings of the sportive butterfly. Another moment, and
the cold iron is in its body.

Paralyzed for an instant, the fish rises to the surface
as if dead, then, recovering itself, it rushes downwards,
until the cord that holds it prisoner tightens, and
makes the canoe tremble; the effort has destroyed it,
and without another struggle it is secured.

When the fish first come into the lakes, they move in
pairs on the surface of the water, and while so doing
they are shot, as it is called, "flying."

an hour. As the season advances, three or four taken
in the same length of time, is considered quite good
success.

To stand upon the shore, and see the arrow-fisherman
busily employed, is a very interesting exhibition of
skill, and of the picturesque. The little "dug out"
seems animate with intelligence; the bowman draws his
long shaft, you see it enter the water, and then follows
the glowing sight of the fine fish sparkling in the sun, as
if sprinkled with diamonds.

At times, too, when legitimate sport tires, some ravenous
gar that heaves in sight, is made a victim; aim
is taken just ahead of his dorsal fin; secured, he flounders
a while, and then drags off the canoe as if in harness,
skimming it almost out of the water with his speed.
Fatigued, finally, with his useless endeavours to escape,
he will rise to the surface, open his huge mouth, and
gasp for air. The water that streams from his jaws
will be colored with blood from the impaled fish that
still struggle in the terrors of his barbed teeth. Rushing
ahead again, he will, by eccentric movements, try
the best skill of the paddler to keep his canoe from
overturning into the lake, a consummation not always
unattained. The gar finally dies, and is dragged ashore;
this buzzard revels on his carcass, and every piscator
contemplates, with disgust, the great enemy to his game;
this terrible monarch of the fresh-water seas.

line our southern streams, the quantity of fallen timber, the
amount of "snags" and "sawyers," and the great
plentifulness of game, make the beautiful art of angling,
as pursued in our Northern States, impossible.

The veriest tyro, who finds a delicate reed in every nook
that casts a shadow in the water, with his rough
line, and coarser hook, can catch fish. The greedy
perch, in all its beautiful varieties, swim eagerly and
swiftly around the snare, and swallow it, without suspicion
that a worm is not a worm, or that appearances
are ever deceitful. The jointed rod, the scientific reel,
cannot be used; the thick hanging bough, the rank
grass, the sunken log, the far reaching melumbium, the
ever still water, make these delicate appliances useless.

Arrow-fishing only, of all the angling in the interior
streams of the southwest, comparatively speaking, claims
the title of an art, as it is pursued with a skill and a
thorough knowledge that tell only with the experienced,
and to the novice, is an impossibility.

The originators of arrow-fishing deserve the credit of
striking out a rare and beautiful amusement, when the
difficulties of securing their game did not require it,
showing that it resulted in the spirit of true sport
alone.

The origin of arrow-fishing we know not; the country
where it is pursued is comparatively of recent settlement
scarce three generations have passed away
within its boundaries.

We asked the oldest piscator that lived in the vicinity
of these "dry lakes," for information regarding the
early history of arrow-fishing, and he told us, that it was
"invented by old Uncle Zac," and gave us his history
in a brief and pathetic manner, concluding his reminiscences
of the great departed, as follows:

"Uncle Zac never know'd nothing 'bout flies, or tickling
trout, but it took him to tell the difference 'twixt
a yarth worm, a grub, or the young of a wasp's nest; in
fact, he know'd fishes amazin', and bein' natur-ally a
hunter, he went to shooten 'em with a bow and arrer, to
keep up yerly times in his history, when he tuck Inguns
and other varmints, in the same way."

THE BIG BEAR OF ARKANSAS.

A STEAMBOAT on the Mississippi, frequently, in making
her regular trips, carries between places varying from
one to two thousand miles apart; and, as these boats
advertise to land passengers and freight at "all intermediate
landings," the heterogeneous character of the
passengers of one up-country up-country boats can scarcely
be imagined by one who has never seen it with his own
eyes.

Starting from New Orleans in one of these boats,
you will find yourself associated with men from every
State in the Union, and from every portion of the globe;
and a man of observation need not lack for amusement
or instruction in such a crowd, if he will take the trouble
to read the great book of character so favorably opened
before him.

Southern planter and the pedler of tin-ware from New
England - the Northern merchant and the Southern
jockey - a venerable bishop, and a desperate gambler -
the land speculator, and the honest farmer-professional
men of all creeds and characters - Wolvereens, Suckers,
Hoosiers, Buckeyes, and Corncrackers, beside a "plentiful
sprinkling" of the half-horse and half-alligator
species of men, who are peculiar to "old Mississippi,"
and who appear to gain a livelihood by simply going up
and down the river. In the pursuit of pleasure or business,
I have frequently found myself in such a crowd.

On one occasion, when in New Orleans, I had occasion
to take a trip of a few miles up the Mississippi,
and I hurried on board the well-known "high-pressure-
and-beat-every-thing" steamboat "Invincible," just as
the last note of the last bell was sounding; and when
the confusion and bustle that is natural to a boat's
getting under way had subsided, I discovered that I
was associated in as heterogeneous a crowd as was ever
got together. As my trip was to be of a few hours'
duration only, I made no endeavors to become acquainted
with my fellow-passengers, most of whom would be together
many days. Instead of this, I took out of my
pocket the "latest paper," and more critically than
usual examined its contents; my fellow-passengers, at
the same time, disposed of themselves in little groups.

While I was thus busily employed in reading, and
my companions were more busily still employed, in

discussing such subjects as suited their humors best,
we were most unexpectedly startled by a loud Indian
whoop, uttered in the "social hall," that part of the
cabin fitted off for a bar; then was to lie heard a loud
crowing, which would not have continued to interest us
- such sounds being quite common in that place of
spirits-had not the hero of these windy accomplishments
stuck his head into the cabin, and hallooed out,
"Hurra for the Big Bear of Arkansaw!"

Then might be heard a confused hum of voices, unintelligible,
save in such broken sentences as "horse,"
"screamer," "lightning is slow," &c.

As might have been expected, this continued interruption,
attracted the attention of every one in the cabin;
all conversation ceased, and in the midst of this surprise,
the "Big Bear" walked into the cabin, took a chair, put
his feet on the stove, and looking back over his shoulder,
passed the general and familiar salute - "Strangers,
how are you?"

He then expressed himself as much at home as if he
had been at "the Forks of Cypress," and "prehaps a
little more so."

Some of the company at this familiarity looked a
little angry, and some astonished; but in a moment
every face was wreathed in a smile. There was something
about the intruder that won the heart on sight.
He appeared to be a man enjoying perfect health and
contentment; his eyes were as sparkling as diamonds,

and good-natured to simplicity. Then his perfect confidence
in himself was irresistibly droll.

"Prehaps," said he, "gentlemen," running on without
a person interrupting, "prehaps you have been to New
Orleans often; I never made the first visit before, and
I don't intend to make another in a crow's life. I am
thrown away in that ar place, and useless, that ar a fact.
Some of the gentlemen thar called me green - well, prehaps
I am, said I, but I arn't so at home; and if I aint
off my trail much, the heads of them perlite chaps themselves
wern't much the hardest; for according to my
notion, they were real know-nothings , green as a pumpkin-
vine-couldn't, in farming, I'll bet, raise a crop of
turnips; and as for shooting, they'd miss a barn if the
door was swinging, and that, too, with the best rifle in
the country. And then they talked to me 'bout hunting,
and laughed at my calling the principal game in
Arkansaw poker, and high-low-jack.

" 'Prehaps,' said I, 'you prefer checkers and roulette;'
at this they laughed harder than ever, and asked me if
I lived in the woods, and didn't know what game was?

"At this, I rather think I laughed.

" 'Yes,' I roared, and says, I, 'Strangers, if you'd
asked me how we got our meat in Arkansaw, I'd a told
you at once, and given you a list of varmints that would
make a caravan, beginning with the bar, and ending off
with the cat; that's meat though, not game.

with them it means chippen-birds and shite-pokes; may
be such trash live in my diggins, but I arn't noticed
them yet: a bird anyway is too trifling I never did
shoot at but one, and I'd never forgiven myself for that,
had it weighed less than forty pounds. I wouldn't
draw a rifle on any thing less heavy than that; and
when I meet with another wild turkey of the same size,
I will drap him."

"Yes, strangers, and wasn't it a whopper? You
see, the thing was so fat that it couldn't fly far; and
when he fell out of the tree, after I shot him, on striking
the ground he bust open behind, and the way the pound
gobs of tallow rolled out of the opening was perfectly
beautiful."

"Where did all that happen?" asked a cynical-looking
Hoosier.

"Happen! happened in Arkansaw: where else
could it have happened, but in the creation State, the
finishing up country - a State where the sile runs down
to the centre of the 'arth, and government gives you a
title to every inch of it? Then its airs - just breathe
them, and they will make you snort like a horse. It's
a State without a fault, it is."

"Excepting mosquitoes," cried the Hoosier.

"Well, stranger, except them; for it ar a fact that
they are rather enormous and do push themselves in

somewhat troublesome. But, stranger, they never stick
twice in the same place; and give them a fair chance
for a few months, and you will get as much above noticing
them as an alligator. They can't hurt my feelings,
for they lay under the skin; and I never knew but
one case of injury resulting from them, and that was to
a Yankee and they take worse to foreigners, any how,
than they do to natives. But the way they used
that fellow up! first they punched him until he swelled up
and busted; then he sup-per-a-ted, as the doctor called
it, until he was as raw as beef; then, owing to the
warm weather, he tuck the ager, and finally he tuck a
steamboat and left the country. He was the only man
that ever tuck mosquitoes at heart that I knowd of.

"But mosquitoes is natur, and I never find fault
with her. If they ar large, Arkansaw is large, her varmints
ar large, her trees ar large, her rivers ar large,
and a small mosquito would be of no more use in Arkansaw
than preaching in a cane brake."

This knock-down argument in favor of big mosquitoes
used the Hoosier up, and the logician started
on a new track, to explain how numerous bear were
in his "diggins," where, he represented them to be "about
as plenty as blackberries, and a little plentifuller."

Upon the utterance of this assertion, a timid little
man near me inquired, if the bear in Arkansaw ever
attacked the settlers in numbers?

stranger, for you see it ain't the natur of bear to go in
droves; but the way they squander about in pairs
and single ones is edifying.

"And then the way I hunt them-the old black rascals
know the crack of my gun as well as they know a
pig's squealing. They grow thin in our parts, it frightens
them so, and they do take the noise dreadfully, poor
things. That gun of mine is a perfect epidemic among
bear: if not watched closely, it will go off as quick on a
warm scent as my dog Bowieknife will: and then that
dog - whew! why the fellow thinks that the world is
full of bear, he finds them so easy. It's lucky he don't
talk as well as think; for with his natural modesty, if
he should suddenly learn how much he is acknowledged
to be ahead of all other dogs in the universe, he would
be astonished to death in two minutes.

"Strangers, that dog knows a bear's way as well as
a horsejockey knows a woman's: he always barks at the
right time, bites at the exact place, and whips without
getting a scratch.

"I never could tell whether he was made expressly
to hunt bear, or whether bear was made expressly
for him to hunt; any way, I believe they were ordained to
go together as naturally as Squire Jones says a man and
woman is, when he moralizes in marrying a couple. In
fact, Jones once said, said he, 'Marriage according to
law is a civil contract of divine origin; it's common to
all countries as well as Arkansaw, and people take to it

"What season of the year do your hunts take place?"
inquired a gentlemanly foreigner, who, from some
peculiarities of his baggage, I suspected to be an
Englishman, on some hunting expedition, probably at
the foot of the Rocky Mountains.

"The season for bear hunting, stranger," said the
man of Arkansaw, "is generally all the year round, and
the hunts take place about as regular. I read in history
that varmints have their fat season, and their lean
season. That is not the case in Arkansaw, feeding as
they do upon the spontenacious productions of the sile,
they have one continued season the year round;
though in winter things in this way is rather more
greasy than in summer, I must admit. For that reason
bear with us run in warm weather, but in winter they
only waddle.

"Fat, fat! its an enemy to speed; it tames every
thing that has plenty of it. I have seen wild turkeys,
from its influence, as gentle as chickens. Run a bear in
this fat condition, and the way it improves the critter for
eating is amazing; it sort of mixes the ile up with the
meat, until you can't tell t'other from which. I've done
this often.

"I recollect one perty morning in particular, of
putting an old he fellow on the stretch, and considering
the weight he carried, be run well. But the dogs soon

tired him down, and when I came up with him wasn't
he in a beautiful sweat - I might say fever; and then to
see his tongue sticking out of his mouth a feet, and his
sides sinking and opening like a bellows, and his cheeks
so fat that he couldn't look cross. In this fix I blazed
at him, and pitch me naked into a briar patch, if the
steam didn't come out of the bullet-hole ten foot in a
straight line. The fellow, I reckon, was made on the
high-pressure system, and the lead sort of bust his
biler."

"That column of steam was rather curious, or else
the bear must have been very warm," observed the foreigner,
with a laugh.

"Stranger, as you observe, that bear was WARM, and
the blowing off of the steam show'd it, and also how hard
the varmint had been run. I have no doubt if he had
kept on two miles farther his insides would have been
stewed; and I expect to meet with a varmint yet of extra
bottom, that will run himself into a skinfull of bear's
grease: it is possible; much onlikelier things have
happened."

"Whereabouts are these bears so abundant?" inquired
the foreigner, with increasing interest.

"Why, stranger, they inhabit the neighborhood of my
settlement, one of the prettiest places on old Mississippi -
a perfect location, and no mistake; a place that had some
defects until the river made the 'cut-off' at
'Shirt-tail bend,' and that remedied the evil, as it

brought my cabin on the edge of the river - a great advantage
in wet weather, I assure you, as you can now
roll a barrel of whiskey into my yard in high water from
a boat, as easy as falling off a log. It's a great improvement
as toting it by land in a jug, as I used to do, evaporated
it too fast, and it became expensive.

"Just stop with me, stranger, a month or two, or a
year, if you like, and you will appreciate my place. I
can give you plenty to eat; for beside hog and hominy,
you can have bear-ham, end bear-sausages, and a mattress
of bear-skins to sleep on, and a wildcat-skin, pulled off
hull, stuffed with corn-shucks, for a pillow. That bed
would put you to sleep if you had the rheumatics
in every joint in your body. I call that ar bed, a quietus.

"Then look at my 'pre-emption' - the government
aint got another like it to dispose of. Such timber, and
such bottom land, - why you can't preserve any thing
natural you plant in it unless you pick it young, things
thar will grow out of shape so quick.

I once planted in those diggins a few potatoes and
beets; they took a fine start, and after that, an ox team
couldn't have kept them from growing. About that time
I went off to old Kaintuck on business, and did not hear
from them things in three months, when I accidentally
stumbled on a fellow who had drapped in at my place,
with an idea of buying me out.

"As I had expected, the crop was overgrown and useless:
the sile is too rich, and planting in. Arkansaw is
dangerous.

"I had a good-sized sow killed in that same bottomland.
The old thief stole an ear of corn, and took it
down to eat where she slept at night. Well, she left a
grain or two on the ground, and lay down on them before
morning the corn shot up, and the percussion killed
her dead. I don't plant any more: natur intended
Arkansaw. for a hunting ground, and I go according to
natur."

The questioner, who had thus elicited the description
of our hero's settlement, seemed to be perfectly satisfied,
and said no more; but the "Big Bear of Arkansaw"
rambled on from one thing to another with a volubility
perfectly astonishing, occasionally disputing with those
around him, particularly with a "live Sucker" from
Illinois, who had the daring to say that our Arkansaw
friend's stories "smelt rather tall."

The evening was nearly spent by the incidents we
have detailed; and conscious that my own association
with so singular a personage would probably end before
morning, I asked him if he would not give me a description
of some particular bear hunt; adding, that I took
great interest in such things, though I was no sportsman.
The desire seemed to please him, and he squared
himself round towards me, saying, that he could give me
an idea of a bear hunt that was never beat in this world,
or in any other. His manner was so singular, that half
of his story consisted in his excellent way of telling it,
the great peculiarity of which was, the happy manner he
had of emphasizing the prominent parts of his conversation.
As near as I can recollect, I have italicized the words, and given the
story in his own way.

"Stranger," said he, "in bear hunts I am numerous,
and which particular one, as you say, I shall tell puzzles
me.

"There was the old she devil I shot at the Hurricane
last fall - then there was the old hog thief I popped
over at the Bloody Crossing, and then - Yes, I have
it! I will give you an idea of a hunt, in which the
greatest bear was killed that ever lived, none excepted;
about an old fellow that I hunted, more or less, for two
or three years; and if that aint a particular bear hunt,
I ain't got one to tell."

But in the first place, stranger, let me say, I am
pleased with you because you aint ashamed to gain information

by asking and listening; and that's what I
say to Countess's pups every day when I'm home; and
I have got great hopes of them ar pups, because they are
continually nosing about; and though they stick it
sometimes in the wrong place, they gain experience any
how, and may learn something useful to boot.

"Well, as I was saying about this big bear, you see
when I and some more first settled in our region. we
were drivin to hunting naturally; we soon liked it, and
after that we found it an easy matter to make the thing
our business. One old chap who had pioneered 'afore
us, gave us to understand that we had settled in the
right place. He dwelt upon its merits until it was affecting,
and showed us, to prove his assertions, more
scratches on the bark of the sassafras trees, than I ever
saw chalk marks on a tavern door 'lection time.

" 'Who keeps that ar reckoning?' said I.

" 'The bear,' said he.

" 'What for?' said I.

" 'Can't tell,' said he; 'but so it is: the bear bite
the bark and wood too, at the highest point from the
ground they can reach, and you can tell, by the marks,'
said he, 'the length of the bear to an inch.'

it, by those very marks; and when I did that, I swelled
up considerably - I've been a prouder man ever since.

"So I went on, larning something every day, until I
was reckoned a buster, and allowed to be decidedly the
best bear hunter in my district; and that is a reputation
as much harder to earn than to be reckoned first man in
Congress, as an iron ramrod is harder than a toadstool.

"Do the varmints grow over-cunning by being fooled
with by greenhorn hunters, and by this means get
troublesome, they send for me, as a matter of course;
and thus I do my own hunting, and most of my neighbors'.
I walk into the varmints though, and it has become
about as much the same to me as drinking. It is
told in two sentences -

"A bear is started, and he is killed.

"The thing is somewhat monotonous now - I know
just how much they will run, where they will tire, how
much they will growl, and what a thundering time I will
have in getting their meat home. I could give you the
history of the chase with all the particulars at the commencement,
I know the signs so well - Stranger, I'm
certain. Once I met with a match, though, and I will
tell you about it; for a common hunt would not be worth
relating.

"On a fine fall day, long time ago, I was trailing
about for bear, and what should I see but fresh marks on
the sassafras trees, about eight inches above any in the
forests that I knew of. Says I, 'Them marks is a hoax,

Or it indicates the d----t bear that was ever grown.' In
fact, stranger, I couldn't believe it was real, and I went
on. Again I saw the same marks, at the same height,
and I knew the thing lived. That conviction came
home to my soul like an earthquake.

"Says I, 'Here is something a-purpose for me: that
bear is mine, or I give up the hunting business.' The
very next morning, what should I see but a number of
buzzards hovering over my corn-field. 'The rascal has
been there,' said I, 'for that sign is certain:' and, sure
enough, on examining, I found the bones of what had
been as beautiful a hog the day before, as was ever
raised by a Buckeye. Then I tracked the critter out
of the field to the woods, and all the marks he left behind,
showed me that he was the bear.

"Well, stranger, the first fair chase I ever had with
that big critter, I saw him no less than three distinct
times at a distance: the dogs run him over eighteen
miles and broke down, my horse gave out, and I was as
nearly used up as a man can be, made on my principle,
which is patent.

"Before this adventure, such things were unknown
to me as possible; but, strange as it was, that bear
got me used to it before I was done with him; for he
got so at last, that he would leave me on a long chase
quite easy. How he did it, I never could understand.

"That a bear runs at all, is puzzling; but how this
one could tire down and bust up a pack of hounds

and a horse, that were used to overhauling everything
they started after in no time, was past my understanding.
Well, stranger, that bear finally got so sassy,
that he used to help himself to a hog off my premises
whenever he wanted one; the buzzards followed after
what he left, and so, between bear and buzzard, I rather
think I got out of pork.

"Well, missing that bear so often took hold of my
vitals, and I wasted away. The thing had been carried
too far, and it reduced me in flesh faster than an ager.
I would see that bear in every thing I did: he hunted
me, and that, too, like a devil, which I began to think
he was.

"While in this shaky fix, I made preparations to give
him a last brush, and be done with it. Having completed
every thing to my satisfaction, I started at sunrise,
and to my great joy, I discovered from the way the
dogs run, that they were near him. Finding his trail
was nothing, for that had become as plain to the pack
as a turnpike road.

"On we went, and coming to an open country, what
should I see but the bear very leisurely ascending a
hill, and the dogs close at his heels, either a match for
him this time in speed, or else he did not care to get
out of their way - I don't know which. But wasn't he
a beauty, though! I loved him like a brother.

"On he went, until he came to a tree, the limbs of
which formed a crotch about six feet from the ground.

Into this crotch he got and seated himself, the dogs
yelling all around it; and there he sat eyeing them as
quiet as a pond in low water.

"A greenhorn friend of mine, in company, reached
shooting distance before me, and blazed away, hitting
the critter in the centre of his forehead. The bear
shook his head as the ball struck it, and then walked
down from that tree, as gently as a lady would from a
carriage.

" 'Twas a beautiful sight to see him do that - he was
in such a rage, that he seemed to be as little afraid of
the dogs as if they had been sucking pigs; and the dogs
warn't slow in making a ring around him at a respectful
distance, I tell you; even Bowieknife himself, stood
off. Then the way his eyes flashed! - why the fire of
them would have singed a cat's hair; in fact, that bear
was in a wrath all over. Only one pup came near him,
and he was brushed out so totally with the bear's left
paw, that he entirely disappeared; and that made the
old dogs more cautious still. In the mean time, I came
up, and taking deliberate aim, as a man should do, at his
side, just back of his foreleg, if my gun did not snap,
call me a coward, and I won't take it personal.

"Yes, stranger, it snapped, and I could not find a
cap about my person. While in this predicament, I
turned round to my fool friend - 'Bill,' says I, 'you're
an ass - you're a fool - you might as well have tried to
kill that bear by barking the tree under his belly, as to

have done it by hitting him in the head. Your shot
has made a tiger of him; and blast me, if a dog gets
killed or wounded when they come to blows, I will stick
my knife into your liver, I will - .' My wrath was up.
I had lost my caps, my gun had snapped, the fellow
with me had fired at the bear's head, and I expected
every moment to see him close in with the dogs and
kill a dozen of them at least. In this thing I was mistaken;
for the bear leaped over the ring formed by the
dogs, and giving a fierce growl, was off - the pack, of
course, in full cry after him. The run this time was
short, for coming to the edge of a lake, the varmint
jumped in, and swam to a little island in the lake, which
it reached, just a moment before the dogs.

" 'I'll have him now,' said I, for I had found my
caps in the lining of my coat - so, rolling a log into the
lake, I paddled myself across to the island, just as the
dogs had cornered the bear in a thicket. I rushed up
and fired - at the same time the critter leaped over the
dogs and came within three feet of me, running like
mad; he jumped into the lake, and tried to mount the
log I had just deserted, but every time he got half his
body on it, it would roll over and send him under; the
dogs, too, got around him, and pulled him about, and
finally Bowieknife clenched with him, and they sunk
into the lake together.

"Stranger, about this time I was excited, and I
stripped off my coat, drew my knife, and intended to

have taken a part with Bowieknife myself, when the bear
rose to the surface. But the varmint staid under -
Bowieknife came up alone, more dead than alive, and
with the pack came ashore.

" 'Thank God!' said I, 'the old villain has got his
deserts at last.'

"Determined to have the body, I cut a grape-vine
for a rope, and dove down where I could see the bear
in the water, fastened my rope to his leg, and fished him,
with great difficulty, ashore. Stranger, may I be
chewed to death by young alligators, if the thing I
looked at wasn't a she bear, and not the old critter
after all.

"The way matters got mixed on that island was onaccountably
curious, and thinking of it made me more
than ever convinced that I was hunting the devil himself.
I went home that night and took to my bed -
the thing was killing me. The entire team of Arkansaw
in bear-hunting acknowledged himself used up, and
the fact sunk into my feelings as a snagged boat will in
the Mississippi. I grew as cross as a bear with two cubs
and a sore tail. The thing got out 'mong my neighbors,
and I was asked how come on that individ-u-al that
same individ-u-al didn't wear telescopes when he turned
a she-bear, of ordinary size, into an old he one, a little
larger than a horse?

"'Oh, no,' said they, 'we only heard of such things
being rather common of late, but we don't believe one
word of it; oh, no,' - and then they would ride off, and
laugh like so many hyenas over a dead nigger.

It was too much, and I determined to catch that
bear, go to Texas, or die, - and I made my preparations
accordin.'

"I had the pack shut up and rested. I took my
rifle to pieces, and iled it.

"I put caps in every pocket about my person, for
fear of the lining.

"I then told my neighbors, that on Monday morning
- naming the day - I would start THAT B(E)AR, and
bring him home with me, or they might divide my
settlement among them, the owner having disappeared.

"Well, stranger, on the morning previous to the great
day of my hunting expedition, I went into the woods
near my house, taking my gun and Bowieknife along,
just from habit, and there sitting down, also from
habit, what should I see, getting over my fence, but the
bear! Yes, the old varmint was within a hundred yards
of me, and the way he walked over that fence - stranger;
he loomed up like a black mist, he seemed so large, and
he walked right towards me.

"I raised myself, took deliberate aim, and fired;
Instantly the varmint wheeled, gave a yell, and walked
through the fence, as easy as a falling tree would
through a cobweb.

"I started after, but was tripped up by my inexpressibles,
which, either from habit or the excitement of
the moment, were about my heels, and before I had
really gathered myself up, I heard the old varmint
groaning, like a thousand sinners, in a thicket near by,
and, by the time I reached him, he was a corpse.

"Stranger, it took five niggers and myself to put that
carcass on a mule's back, and old long-ears waddled
under his load, as if he was foundered in every leg of
his body; and with a common whopper of a bear, he
would have trotted off, and enjoyed himself.

" 'Twould astonish you to know how big he was:
I made a bed-spread of his skin, and the way it used
to cover my bear mattress, and leave several feet on each
side to tuck up, would have delighted you. It was, in
fact, a creation bear, and if it had lived in Samson's
time, and had met him in a fair fight, he would have
licked him in the twinkling of a dice-box.

"But, stranger, I never liked the way I hunted him,
and missed him. There is something curious about it,
that I never could understand, - and I never was satisfied
at his giving in so easy at last. Prehaps he had
heard of my preparations to hunt him the next day, so
he jist guv up, like Captain Scott's coon, to save his
wind to grunt with in dying; but that ain't likely. My
private opinion is, that that bear was an unhuntable bear,
and died when his time come."

with his auditors, in a grave silence; I saw there
was a mystery to him connected with the bear whose
death he had just related, that had evidently made a
strong impression on his mind. It was also evident
that there was some superstitious awe connected with
the affair, - a feeling common with all "children of the
wood," when they meet with any thing out of their
everyday experience.

He was the first one, however, to break the silence,
and, jumping up, he asked all present to "liquor" before
going to bed, - a thing which he did, with a number of
companions, evidently to his heart's content.

Long before day, I was put ashore at my place of
destination, and I can only follow with the reader, in
imagination, our Arkansas friend, in his adventures at
the "Forks of Cypress" on the Mississippi.

THE MISSISSIPPI.

'I have been
Where the wild will of Mississippi's tide
has dashed me on the sawyer." - BRAINERD.

THE North American continent - in its impenetrable
forests - its fertile prairies - its magnificent lakes - its
variety of rivers with their falls - is the richest portion
of our globe. Many of these wonderful exhibitions of
nature are already shrines, where pilgrims from every
land assemble to admire and marvel at the surpassing
wonders of a new world. So numerous indeed are the
objects presented, so novel and striking is their character,
that the judgment is confused in endeavoring to decide
which single one is worthy of the greatest admiration;
and the forest - the prairies - the lakes - the
rivers - and falls - each in turn dispute the supremacy.

But to us, the Mississippi ranks first in importance;
and thus we think must it strike all, when they consider
the luxurious fertility of the valley through which it

flows, its vast extent, and the charm of mystery that
rests upon its waters.

The Niagara Falls, with its fearful depths, its rocky
heights, its thunder, and "bows of promise," addresses
itself to the ear, and the eye; and through these alone
impresses the beholder with the greatness of its character.
The Mississippi, on the contrary, although it may
have few or no tangible demonstrations of power, although
it has no language with which it can startle the
senses, yet in a "still small voice" addresses the mind
with its terrible lessons of strength and sublimity, more
forcibly than any other object in nature.

The name MISSISSIPPI, was derived from the aborigines
of the country, and has been poetically rendered
the "Father of Waters." There is little truth in this
translation, and it gives no idea, or scarcely none, of the
river itself. The literal meaning of the Indian compound,
Mississippi, as is the case with all Indian names
in this country, would have been much better, and every
way more characteristic. From the most numerous
Indian tribe in the southwest we derive the name; and it
would seem that the same people who gave the name to
the Mississippi, at different times possessed nearly half
the continent; judging from the fact that the Ohio in
the north, and many of the most southern points of the
peninsula of Florida, are named from the Choctaw language.

and Sippah, are used when describing the most familiar
things; but these two words, though they are employed
thus familiarly, when separated - compounded, form the
most characteristic name we can get of this wonderful
river. Missah, literally Old big, Sippah, strong, OLD-
BIG-STRONG; and this name is eminently appropriate to
the Mississippi.

The country through which this river flows, is almost
entirely alluvial. Not a stone is to be seen, save about
its head-waters; and the dark rich earth "looks eager
for the hand of cultivation;" for vegetation lies piled
upon its surface with a luxuriant wastefulness that beggars
all description, and finds no comparison for its extent,
except in the mighty river from which it receives
its support. This alluvial soil forms but frail banks
wherewith to confine the swift current of the Mississippi;
and, as might be imagined, these are continually altering
their shape and location.

The channel is capricious and wayward in its course.
The needle of the compass turns round and round upon
its axis, as it marks the bearings of your craft, and in a
few hours will frequently point due north, west, east,
and south, delineating those tremendous bends in the
stream which nature seems to have formed to check the
headlong current, and keep it from rushing too madly
to the ocean.

But the stream does not always tamely circumscribe
these bends: gathering strength from resistance, it will

form new and more direct channels; and thus it is, that
large tracts of country once upon the river, become inland,
or are entirely swept away by the current; and so
frequently does this happen, that "cut-offs" are almost
as familiar to the eye on the Mississippi, as its muddy
waters.

When the Mississippi, in making its "cut-offs," is
ploughing its way through the virgin soil, there float
upon the top of this destroying tide, thousands of trees,
which but lately covered the land, and lined its caving
banks. These gigantic wrecks of the primitive forests
are tossed about by the invisible power of the current,
as if they were straws; and they find no rest, until with
associated thousands they are thrown upon some projecting
point of land, where they lie rotting for miles,
their dark forms frequently shooting into the air like
writhing serpents, presenting one of the most desolate
pictures of which the mind can conceive. These masses
of timber are called "rafts."

Other trees become attached to the bottom of the river,
and yet by some elasticity of the roots are loose enough
to be affected by the strange and powerful current, which
will bear them down under the surface; and the trees,
by their own strength, will come gracefully up again to
be again ingulfed; and thus they continuously wave upward
and downward, with a gracefulness of motion which
would not disgrace a beau of the old school. Boats
frequently pass over these "sawyers," as they go down

stream, pressing them under by their weight; but let
some unfortunate child of the genius of Robert Fulton,
as it passes up stream, be saluted by the visage of one
of these polite gentry, as it rises ten or more feet in
the air, and nothing short of irreparable damage, or
swift destruction ensues: while the cause of all this disaster,
after the concussion, will rise above the ruin as if
nothing had happened, shake the dripping water from
its forked limbs, and sink and rise again, rejoicing in its
strength.

Other trees become firmly fastened in the bed of the
river; and their long trunks, shorn of their limbs, present
the most formidable objects of navigation. A rock
itself, sharpened and set by art, could be no more dangerous
than these dread "snags." Let the bows of the
strongest vessel come in contact with them, and the concussion
will crush its timbers as if they were paper; and
the noble craft will tremble for a moment like a thing
of life, when suddenly stricken to its vitals, and then sink
into its grave.

Such are the "cut-offs," "rafts," "sawyers," and
"snags," of the Mississippi; terms significant to the
minds of the western boatman and hunter, of qualities
which they apply to themselves, and to their heroes,
whenever they wish to express themselves strongly; and
we presume that the beau-ideal of a political character
with them, would be, one who would come at the truth
by a "cut off " - separate and pile up falsehood for decay

like the trees of a "raft:" and do all this with the
politeness of a "sawyer" - and with principles unyielding
as a "snag."

The forests that line the banks of the Mississippi,
and supply, without any apparent decrease, the vast
masses of timber that in such varied combinations
every where meet the eye, are themselves worthy of the
river which they adorn.

Go into the primitive forests at noonday, and however
fiercely the sun may shine, you will find yourself
enveloped in gloom. Gigantic trees obstruct your pathway,
and as you cast your eyes upward, your head grows
dizzy with their height. Here, too, are to be seen dead
trunks, shorn of their limbs, and whitening in the blasts,
that are as mighty in their size as the pillars of Hercules.
Grape-vines larger than your body will, for some
distance, creep along the ground, and then suddenly
spring a hundred feet into the air, grasp some patriarch
of the forest in its folds, crush, mutilate, and destroy it;
and then, as if to make amends for the injury, throw over
its deadening work the brightest green, the richest foliage,
filled with fragrance, and the clustering grape.
On the top of these aspiring trees, the squirrel is beyond
the gunshot reach of the hunter.

Upon the ground are long piles of crumbling mould,
distinguished from the earth around them by their numerous
and variegated flowers. These immense piles,
higher in places shall your head, are hut the remains of

single trees, that a century ago startled the silence now
so profound, and with their headlong crash sent through
the green arch above sounds that for a moment silenced
the echoing thunder that loaded the hurricane that prostrated
them.
Here were to be seen the ruins of a new continent -
here were mouldering tile antiquities of America - how unlike
those of the Old World. Omnipotence, not man, had
created these wonderful monuments of greatness, with no
other tears than the silent rain, no other slavery than
the beautiful laws that govern nature in ordering the
seasons - and yet these monuments, created in innocency,
and at the expense of so much time, were wasting
into nothingness. God above in his power could erect
them. They were breathed upon in anger and turned to
dust.

The vast extent of the Mississippi is almost beyond
belief. The stream which may bear you gently along in
midwinter, so far south that the sun is oppressive, finds
its beginnings in a country of eternal snows. Follow it
in your imagination thousands of miles, as you pass on
from its head waters to its mouth, and you find it flowing
through almost every climate under heaven: nay
more - the comparatively small stream on which you
look, receives within itself the waters of four rivers
alone; Arkansas, Red, Ohio, and Missouri; whose
united length, without including their tributaries, is
over eight thousand miles. Yet, this mighty flood is

swallowed up by the Mississippi, as if it possessed
within itself the very capacity of the ocean, and disdained
in its comprehensive limits, to acknowledge the
accession of strength.

The color of this tremendous flood of water is always
turbid. There seems no rest for it, that will enable it
to become quiet or clear. In all seasons the same
muddy water meets the eye; and this strange peculiarity
suggests to the mind that the banks of the river
itself are composed of this dark sediment which has in
the course of centuries confined the onward flood within
its present channel, and in this order of nature we find
one of the most original features of the river; for on
the Mississippi we have no land sloping in gentle declivities
to the water's edge, but a bank just high
enough, where it is washed by the river, to protect the
back country from inundation, in the ordinary rises of
the stream; for whenever, from an extensive flood, it
rises above the top of this feeble barrier, the water runs
down into the country.

This singular fact shows how all the land on the
Mississippi south of the thirty-fourth degree of latitude,
is liable to inundation, since nearly all the inhabitants
on the shores of the river, find its level in ordinarily
high water, running above the land on which they reside.
To prevent this easy, and apparently natural inundation,
there seems to be a power constantly exerted
to hold the flood in check, and bid it "go so far and no

farther;" and but for this interposition of Divine power,
here so signally displayed, the fair fields of the South
would become mere sand-bars upon the shores of the
Atlantic, and the country which might now support the
world by its luxurious vegetation, would only bear the
angry ocean wave.

Suppose, for an instant, that a universal spring
should beam upon our favored continent, and that the
thousands of streams which are tributary to the Mississippi
were to become at once unloosed: the mighty flood
in its rushing course would destroy the heart of the
northwestern continent.

But mark the goodness and wisdom of Providence!
Early in the spring, the waters of the Ohio rise with its
tributaries, and the Mississippi bears them off without
injuriously overflowing its banks. When summer sets in,
its own head-waters about the lakes, and the swift Missouri,
with its melting ice from the Rocky Mountains,
come down; and thus each, in order, makes the Mississippi
its outlet to the Gulf of Mexico. But were all
these streams permitted to come together in their
strength, what, again we ask, would save the Eden gardens
of the South?

In contemplations like these, carried out to their
fullest extent, we may arrive at the character of this
mighty river. It is in the thoughts it suggests, and not
in the breadth or length visible at any given point to
the eye. Depending on the senses alone, we should

never be confounded by astonishment, or excited by admiration.
You may float upon its bosom, and be lost
amid its world of waters, and yet see nothing of its vastness;
for the river has no striking beauty; its waves
run scarce as high as a child can reach; upon its banks
we find no towering precipices, no cloud-capped mountains -
all, all is dull, - a dreary waste.

Let us float however, day after day, upon its apparently
sluggish surface, and by comparison once begin
to comprehend its magnitude, and the mind becomes
overwhelmed with fearful admiration. There seems to
rise up from its muddy waters a spirit robed in mystery,
that points back for its beginning to the deluge, and
whispers audibly, "I roll on, and on, and on, altering,
but not altered, while time exists!"

Here, too, we behold a power terrible in its loneliness;
for on the Mississippi a sameness meets your eye every
where, with scarce a single change of scene.

A river incomprehensible, illimitable, and mysterious,
flows ever onward, tossing to and fro under its depths,
in its own channel, as if fretting in its ordered limits;
swallowing its banks here, and disgorging them elsewhere,
so suddenly that the attentive pilot, as he repeats
his frequent route, feels that he knows not where he is,
and often hesitates fearfully along in the mighty flood,
guided only by the certain lead; and again and again is
he startled by the ominous cry, "Less fathom deep!"

where but yesterday the lead would have in vain gone
down for soundings.

Such is the great Aorta of the continent of North
America; alone and unequalled in its majesty, it proclaims
in its course the wisdom and power of GOD, who
only can measure its depths, and ; "turn them about as
a very little thing."

LARGE AND SMALL STEAMERS OF THE
MISSISSIPPI.

The steamboats of the Mississippi are as remarkable for
size and form as the river itself. Gigantic specimens
of art that go bellowing over the swift and muddy current,
like restless monsters, breathing out the whisperings
of the hurricane, clanking and groaning as if an
earthquake was preparing to convulse the world, obscuring
in clouds of smoke the sun in the daytime, or
rolling over the darkness of night a flame as if the volcano
had burst from the bosom of the deep.

Who, without wondering, sees them for the first time,
as they rush along, filled with an ever-busy throng of
travellers, and loaded with the boundless wealth, that
teems from the rich soil, as the reward of the labor of
the American husbandman!

The Mississippi is also very remarkable for little
steamboats, small specimens of water-craft, that are

famous for their ambitious puffings, noisy captains, and
gigantic placards - boats that run up little streams that
empty into the Mississippi - boats that go beyond places
never dreamed of in geography - never visited by travellers,
or even marked down in the scrutinizing book of
the tax collector.

The first time one finds himself in one of these
boats, he looks about him as did Gulliver when he got
in Lilliput. It seems as if you are larger and more
magnificent than an animated colossus - you find, on
going on the boat, that your feet are on the lower deck
and your head up-stairs; the after-cabin is so disposed
of that you can sit inside of it, and yet be near the
bows. The ladies' cabin has but one berth in it, and
that only as wide as a shelf.

The machinery is tremendous; two large kettles
firmly set in brick, attached to a complicated-looking
coffee mill, two little steampipes and one big one.

And then the way that the big steam-pipe will smoke,
and the little ones let off steam, is singular. Then the
puffing of the little coffee-mill! why it works as spitefully
as a tom-cat with his tail caught in the crack of a door.

Then the engineer, to see him open "the furnace"
doors, and pitch in wood, and open the little stop-cocks
to see if the steam is not too high, all so much like a big
steamer. Then the name of the craft, "THE U.S. MAIL,
EMPORER," the letters covering over the whole side of

Then the "U. S. MAIL" deposited in one corner of the
cabin, and two rifles standing near, as if to guard it;
said mail being in a bag that looks like a gigantic shot-
pouch, fastened to a padlock, and said pouch filled with
three political speeches, franked by M.C.'s, one letter,
to a man who did not live at the place of its destination,
and a small bundle of post-office documents put in by
mistake.

The bell that rang for the boat's departure, was a
tremendous bell; it swung to and fro awfully; it was
big enough for a cathedral, and as it rung for the twentieth, 'last time,' one passenger came on board weighing
about three hundred, and the boat got under way.

"Let go that hawser," shouted the captain in a
voice of thunder. Pe, wee, wee, pish, went the little
steampipe, and we were off. Our track lay for a time
down the Mississippi, and we went ahead furiously, overhauled two rafts and a flat-boat within two hours,
and presented the appearance of a reel big steamer most
valiantly, by nearly shaking to pieces in its waves.
The two light passengers got along very well, but whenever
the fat passenger got off a line with the centre of
the cabin, the pilot would give the bell one tap, and the
captain would bawl out, "Trim the boat."

Captain Raft, of the U. S. Mail steamer Emperor,
it may not be uninteresting to know, was one of those

eccentric men that had a singular ambition to run a
boat where no one else could - he was fond of being a
great discoverer on a small scale. In one of his eccentric
humors, Captain Raft run the Emperor up Red
River, as the pilot observed, about "a feet," which in
the southwest, means several hundred miles.

Among the passengers upon that occasion was old
Zeb Marston, a regular out-and-outer frontiersman, who
seemed to spend his whole life in settling out of the way
places, and locating his family in sickly situations. Zeb
was the first man that "blazed" a tree in Eagle Town,
on the Mountain Fork, and he was the first man that ever
choked an alligator to death with his hands, on the Big
Cossitot. He knew every snag, sawyer, nook and corner
of the Sabine, the Upper Red River, and their tributaries,
and when "bar whar scace," he was wont to declare
war on the Cumanchos, and, for excitement, "used them
up terribly."

But to our story - Zeb moved on Red River, settled
in a low, swampy, terrible place, and he took it as a
great honor that the Emperor passed his cabin; and, at
every trip the boat made, there was tumbled out at Zeb's
yard a barrel of new whiskey, (as regularly as she passed,)
for which was paid the full value in cord wood.
Now, Captain Raft was a kind man, and felt disposed
to oblige every resident that lived on his route of travel;
but it was unprofitable to get every week to Zeb's out-
of-the way place, and as he landed the fifteenth barrel,

he expressed his surprise at the amount of whiskey consumed
at his "settlement," and hinted it was rather an
unprofitable business for the boat. Zeb, at this piece
of information, "flared up," raised his mane, shut his
"maulers," and told Captain Raft he could whip him, -
the pilot, and deck hands, and if they would give him
the advantage of the "under grip," he would let the piston-
rod of the engine punch him in the side all the time
the fight was going on.

Raft, at this display of fury from Zeb, cooled down
immediately, acknowledged himself "snagged," begged
Zeb's pardon, and adjourned to the bar for a drink.
One glass followed another, until the heroes got into
the mellow mood, and Zeb, on such occasions, always
"went it strong" for his family. After praising their
beauty individually and collectively, he broke into the
pathetic, and set the Captain crying, by the following
heart-rending appeal: -

"Raft, Raft, my dear fellow, you talk about the
trouble of putting out a barrel of whiskey every week
at my digging, when I have got a sick wife, and five small
children, and no cow! - whar's your heart?"

Dinner in due course of time was announced - the
table was covered with the largest roast beef, the largest
potatoes, and the largest carving-knife and fork that
ever floated, and the steward rang the largest bell for
dinner, and longer than any other steward would have
done, and the captain talked about the immense extent

Of the Mississippi, the contemplated canal through the
Isthmus of Darien, and the ability of the steam warships;
he said, that in the contemplation of the subject,
"his feelings war propelled by five hundred horsepower
- that the bows of his imagination cut through
the muddy waters of reality - that the practicability of
his notions was as certain as a rudder in giving the proper
direction - that his judgment, like a safety-valve to
his mind, would always keep him from advocating any
thing that would burst up, and that it was unfortunate
that Robert Fulton had not lived to be President of the
United States."

With such enlarged ideas he wiled away the hours
of dinner; - arriving at the mouth of "Dry Outlet" (a
little ditch that draws off some of the waters of the
Mississippi when very high), the pilot turned the bows
of the "Emperor" into its mouth, and shot down,
along with an empty flour barrel, with an alacrity that
sent the bows of the boat high and dry on land, the first
bend it came to.

A great deal of hard work got it off, and away the
steamer went again, at one time sideways, at another
every way, hitting against the soft alluvial banks, or
brushing the pipes among the branches of overhanging
trees. Finally the current got too strong, and carried
it along with alarming velocity. The bows of the boat
were turned up stream, and thus managed to keep an
onward progress compatible with safety.

The banks of the "dry outlet" were very low and very
swampy, and were disfigured occasionally by wretched
cabins, in which lived human beings, who, the captain
of the "Emperor" informed us, lived, as far as he could
judge, by sitting upon the head of a barrel and looking
out on the landscape, and at his boat as it passed. From
the fact that they had no arable land, and looked like
creatures fed on unhealthy air, we presume that was
their only occupation.

In time we arrived at the "small village," the destination
of the "mail pouch;" "the passengers" landed
and visited the town. It was one of the ruins of a
great city, dreamed of by land speculators in "glorious
times." Several splendidly-conceived mansions were
decaying about in the half-finished frames that were
strewn upon the ground. A barrel of whiskey was
rolled ashore, the mail delivered, the fat man got out,
and the steamer was again under way.

The "dry outlet" immerged into a broad inland
lake, which itself, with a peculiarity of the tributaries
of the Mississippi, emptied into that river. Our little
boat plunged on, keeping up with untiring consistency
all its original pretensions and puffing, and the same
clanking of tiny machinery, scaring the wild ducks and:
geese, scattering the white cranes over our heads, and
making the cormorant screech with astonishment in
hoarser tones than the engine itself.

turn round and come up to the banks with
grandeur, astonishing the squatter's children, and the
invalid hens that lived in the front yard. The captain
would pay up the bill for the wood, and off he would go
again as "big as all out doors," and a great deal more
natural. Thus we struggled on, until, sailing up a stream
with incessant labor, such as we went down when we
commenced our sketch, we emerged into the world of
water that flows in the Mississippi. Down the rapid
current we gracefully swept, very much to the astonishment
of the permanent inhabitants on its banks.

Again for the "innumerable time," the "furnaces"
consumed the wood, and as it had to be replenished, we
ran alongside one of those immense wood-yards, so peculiar
to the Mississippi, where lay, in one continuous pile,
thousands of cords of wood. The captain of the "Emperor,"
as he stopped his boat before it, hollowed out
from his upper deck, in a voice of the loudest tone -
"Got any wood here?"

Now the owner of the wood-yard, who was a very
rich man, and a very surly one, looked on the "pile," and
said "he thought it possible."

"Then," said the captain, "how do you sell it a
cord?" The woodman eyed the boat and its crew; and eyed
the passengers, and then said, " he would not sell the
boat any wood, but the crew might come ashore and
get their hats full of chips for nothing."

Hereupon the five hundred horsepower of the captain's
feelings, and the rudder and the safety- valves of his
well-regulated mind, became surcharged with wrath, and
he vented out abuse on the wood-yard and its owner,
which was expressed in "thoughts that breathe and
words that burn."

A distant large boat, breasting the current like a
thing of life, at this moment coming in sight, gave us
a hint, and rushing ashore amid the "wrath" we bid
the "Emperor" and its enraged captain a hearty goodbye,
and in a few moments more we dwindled into insignificance
on board of the magnificent - , the pride
and wonder of the Western waters.

FAMILIAR SCENES ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

As our magnificent Union has increased in population,
the aborigines within the "older States" have become
constantly more and more degraded. "The Government,"
as the most merciful policy, has taxed its
energies to remove these red men from the vicinity of
civilization, to homes still wild and primitive, west of
the Mississippi. There, a vast extent of country is still
unoccupied, in which he can pursue, comparatively unrestrained,
his inclinations, and pluck a few more days of
happiness before his sun entirely sets.

Occasionally may be seen in the southwest, a large
body of these people, under the charge of a "government
officer," going to the new homes provided for them
by their "white father." These "removals" are always
melancholy exhibitions. The Indians, dispirited and
heart-broken, entirely hopeless of the future, with dogged

looks submit to every privation that is imposed on
them, and appear equally indifferent as to the receipt of
favors. Throwing aside every mark of etiquette among
themselves, the chief, who, when among their native
haunts, is almost a sacred person, lies down or takes
his food, promiscuously with the noblest or most degraded
of his people; all distinctions of age as well as
caste, are thrown aside, and the Indians seem a mere
mass of degraded humanity, with less apparent capability
of self-preservation than the brute.

Some two or three years ago, we took passage on
board a boat bound from New Orleans to St. Louis,
which boat the government had engaged to carry as far
towards their place of destination as practicable, near
four hundred Seminoles, who, with their chiefs, had
agreed to emigrate west of the Mississippi.

We were not particularly pleased with our numerous
and novel passengers, but the lateness of the season lessened
the chances of getting a conveyance, and as most of
the Indians were to remain in a tender, lashed to the side
of the steamer, we concluded that a study of their manners
and habits would beguile away the time of a long
trip, and thus pay us for the inconveniences we might
be put to. Unfortunately, the novelty of our situation
too soon passed away.

The Indians, who on first acquaintance kept up a little
display of their original character, gradually relapsed
into what appeared to be a mere vegetable existence,

and slept through the entire twenty-four hours of the
day. Of all the remarkable traits of character that dignify
them in history, we could not discern the least
trace; yet among the brutal, insensible savages at our
feet, were many daring spirits, who had displayed in
their warfare with the whites, dangerous talents, and
taken many a bloody scalp. The girls were possessed
of little or no personal charms, while the women, the laborers
of the tribe, were as hideous as any hags that can
be imagined.

The heat of the weather and the confinement of the
boat, had a dreadful effect upon these poor wretches;
sickness rapidly broke out among them, and as they
stoutly refused to take the white man's medicine, their
chances of recovery were poor indeed.

The tender was turned into a perfect lazar-house,
and nothing could be seen but the affecting attentions
of the old squaws to their friends and relatives, as they
wasted away before their eyes. The infant and patriarch
were side by side, consuming with slow fever, while
the corpse of some middle-aged person lay at their feet,
waiting for the funeral rites and the obscurity of the
grave. Vain were the prescriptions of the "medicine
man" of their tribe; he blew his breath through a gaudy
colored reed upon the faces of his patients, and recited
his incantations, but without success. He disfigured his
person with new paint, and altered his devices daily, still
his patients would die, and at every landing where the

No one mourned over the corpse but the females,
and they only when intimately related to the deceased.
The father, son, or husband, as they saw their relatives
falling around them, scarce turned their eyes upon the
dead, and if they did, it was only to exclaim in guttural
accents, "Ugh!" and then turn away to sleep.

Not an article belonging to the dead but was wrapped
up with it, or placed in the coffin; the infant and
its playthings, the young girl and her presents, the
squaw with her domestic utensils, and the "brave" with
his gun and whatever property there was in his possession.
A beautiful custom, indeed - and one that
brings no crocodile tears to the eyes of the living heir,
and gives the lawyer no chance for litigation.

Among those who died, was one old veteran warrior
who had particularly attracted our attention by his
severe looks and loneliness of habit, and we watched
attentively his exit from the world. He seemed, as
near as we could judge, to have no relatives about him;
no one noticed him but the doctor, who was markedly
attentive. The old man was a chief, and the scars that
covered his body told of many a dreadful encounter with
man and beast. His huge skeleton, as he moved about
in his ill-concealed agony, looked like the remains of a
giant, exaggerated by its want of flesh. His hands
were small, and of feminine delicacy - occasionally he

would move them about in mute eloquence, then clutch
at the air, as if in pursuit of an enemy, and fall back
exhausted.

Recovering from one of these fits, he tried to stand,
but found it impossible; he, however, raised himself
upon his elbow, and opening his eyes for the first time
in a long while, stared wildly about him. The sun, which
was at this time low in the west, shone full upon him -
his smooth skin glistened like burnished copper - his
long-neglected hair, of silvery whiteness, hung over his
head and face, while the scalp-lock displayed itself by its
immense length, as it reached his shoulder. His muscles,
shrunken by age and disease, moved like cords in performing
their offices.

A smile lit up his features - his lips moved - and he
essayed to speak. A faint chant was heard - the doctor,
at the sound, bent his head, and assumed an air of reverence.
The chant, as it continued to swell on the evening
breeze, reached the ears of the slumbering warriors
that lay about, and as they listened to the sounds, I
could discern their sottish eyes open and flash with unearthly
fires; sometimes exhibiting pleasure, but oftener
ferocity and hatred. The old man sang on, a few raised
to their feet, and waved their hands in the air, as if keeping
time, and occasionally some aged Indian would repeat
the sounds he heard. The old man ceased, turned
his face full to the setting sun, and fell back a corpse.

homes, gave an expression of malignity, as well as sorrow,
and then silently and sluggishly sank into repose,
as if nothing unusual had occurred.

"That old fellow brags well of his infernal deeds,"
observed one of the white men accompanying the Indians,
"and the red-skinned devils about here drink it
in as a Cuba hound would blood."

The intense heat of the weather, and the quietness
that reigned so profoundly among the Indians, broken
only by the saw and hammer of the carpenter making
coffins at the capstan, made us sigh for a landing-place,
and a separation from such melancholy scenes. This
desire was encouraged from the well-known fact, that
the savages grew every hour more troublesome, and the
song of the dying old chief had neither allayed their
feelings, nor made them more contented.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The morning following the death of the old chief
had been preceded by one of those nights in which the
fog rose from the water so thick, that, in the hyperbolical
language of the boatman, you could make featherbeds
of it. The pilot had "felt his way along" for
many hours, until the sudden crash that shook every
thing in the boat, convinced us that we were aground.
The engine stopped, and left us in perfect silence and
obscurity.

On deck. The fresh mist blew in our faces with sickening
effect, and the sun - then two hours high - was invisible.
The shore, which was so near that the breaking of
twigs could be heard, as cattle, or game moved about on
it, was indiscernible. Even the end of the boat opposite
to the one on which we stood was invisible. A deep,
damp, opaque Mississippi river fog, had swallowed us
up.

As the sun continued to rise and gain strength in
its ascent, its rays penetrated through the gloom, and
we at last discovered it, working its way through the
fog by its rays, reaching them out as a debilitated spider
would his legs, and apparently with the same caution
and labor.

With the growing heat a gentle breeze sprang up,
and the fog rolled about in huge masses, leaving spots
of pure atmosphere, and then closing them up; gradually
the air became more and more rarefied, and things
at a distance began to appear all magnified and mysterious.

On came the sun, brightening and enlarging, until
his streaming rays dipped into the water, and shot up to
the zenith.

The fog, no longer able to keep its consistency, retired
before its splendor in little clouds, which would
sometimes rally, and spread over the surface of the
river, then, breaking asunder, vanish away into air, with
a splendor that rivalled the dying dolphin's tints.

Now, for the first time, could we learn our whereabouts.
The broad bosom of the Mississippi stretched
far to the front of us, while at the stern of our boat was
one of those abrupt banks that denote a sudden bend in
the river. This had deceived the pilot. On our right,
within a few hundred yards, lay the shore, lined with
huge trees, tangled with gigantic vines, and waving with
festoons of moss, giving them a sombre appearance, that
was singular and repulsive. Wild ducks and geese
went screaming by, heron and crane innumerable would
come near us, but discovering the dark form of our boat,
fly precipitately away.

The water glistened in the sun, and there would rise
from its quiet surface little columns of mist, that would
ascend high in the air, or sail along on the surface of
the water, until striking the distant shore, they rolled
over the landscape, enveloping parts in momentary obscurity,
- and it was not until near noon that the fog
entirely disappeared. Then the sun, as if incensed with
the veil that had for a time kept it from its scorching
work, poured down its heat with more intensity, leaving
a foggy day, hotter before its close, than if the sun had
been unobscured in its appearance in the morn.

While sitting in the cabin, congratulating ourselves
on the prospect of getting off the sand-bar, on which we
had so long been detained, the report of a rifle was heard,
fired from the deck, accompanied by a yell.

whoop followed, that made our blood run cold. The ladies
present turned pale, and the commanding officer
who had charge of the Indians, somewhat astonished, left
the cabin.

A momentary alarm seized upon us all. Could the
old warrior's death-song have incited mutiny! - Crack!
went another rifle outside, - and another shout; - we
could stand it no longer, but rushed on deck.

What a scene! Not an Indian that was able, but
was upon his feet, his eyes sparkling with fire, and his
form looking as active as a panther's. The sluggards
of yesterday were sleek and nervous as horses at the
starting post, so perfectly had a little excitement altered
them. Their rifles, however, thank Heaven, were not
turned upon the white man - their enemy was between
the boat and the shore - in the water - in the form of a
very large black bear.

It was a beautiful sight to see the savage springing
with a graceful bound, on some high place in the boat;
and raise his rifle to his eye,; - before the report was
heard you could mark a red furrow on the head of the
bear, where it was struck by the ball as it passed its
way through the skin and flesh without entering the
bone, while the bear, at these assaults, would throw himself
half out of the water, brush over the smarting
wound with his huge paw, and then dash on for life.
Another shot, and another yell brought the bear on the
defensive end showed that he was dangerously wounded.

While this firing was going on, some Indians, armed
only with knives, launched a canoe that lay among their
movables, and paddled hurriedly out to the bear. No
sooner was the canoe within the bear's reach than he put
his huge paws on its side, and in spite of the thrusts aimed
at his head, turned his enemies with a somerset into the
water. Loud shouts of laughter greeted this accident;
the little "papooses" and women fairly danced with joy,
while the crew yelled and shouted at the sport, as much
as the savages themselves.

The bear turned from the boat and looked for his
victims, but they were not to be seen; precipitated so
suddenly into the water, they sank below the surface
like the duck when much alarmed, and then thrust out
their shining polls far from the friendly hug of the
bear.

Laying their plans of attack at once (for the firing
of rifles was suspended), one of the Indians attracted
the bear's attention, and made towards him; they met,
the floating canoe only between them, and while thus skirmishing,
an unoccupied Indian came up behind the bear,
raised his knife, and drove it deeply into his side, and
then disappeared beneath the surface. The bear turned
in the direction of this new attack, snapped and clawed
in the water in the greatest agony. Another stab was
given in the same way, and as the Indian again disappeared,
a "white hunter," who had been heretofore an
uninterested spectator, sprang upon the guards of the

boat, and singing out "red devils, look out below,"
fired. The bear leaped entirely out of the water, fell
upon his back, and after a convulsive kick or two, floated
lifelessly upon the water.

This exploit of the white man, so sudden and unexpected,
was greeted by a loud shout from all parties.

'You see," said the hunter, as he coolly laid down
his rifle - " you see the bear has a feeling, strangers, and
whar is the use in tormenting the varmint? my old
shooting iron never misses, but if it had hit a red-skin
by accident, I should not have been ashamed of the shot
- for the bear is the best Christian of the two, and a
perfect gentleman, compared with the best copper-skin
that ever breathed."

The Indians in the water at the last shot expressed
a significant "ugh," and approaching the bear, gave him
repeated thrusts with their knives, which showed that
they thought him a hard-lived and dangerous animal.
In a few minutes they recovered their canoe, and were
towing the dead carcass ashore.

Fifty Indians at least now threw their blankets aside,
and leaping into the water, swam after the bear. The
tearing off of the huge skin, and jerking the meat, was
dispatched so rapidly, that it indicated an accustomed
work.

This little incident relieved the monotony, of all others
the most disagreeable - that of being aground in
the Mississippi, and the hours of labor which were spent

in releasing the boat, passed quickly away, and by the
time the Indians returned to their friends in the tender,
the bell sounded; - we moved: - and the steamer again
gallantly bore us toward our place of destination.

A STORM SCENE ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

IN the year 18--, we found ourselves travelling on horseback,
"low down on the Mississippi." The weather was
intensely hot, and as we threaded our way through the
forests and swamps, through which the river flows, a
silent and stifled atmosphere prevailed, such as required
little wisdom to predict as the forerunner of a storm.

The insects of the woods were more than usually
troublesome and venomous. The locust would occasionally
make its shrill sounds as on a merry day, then suddenly
stop, give a disquiet chirp or two, and relapse into
silence. The venomous mosquito, revelled in the dampness
of the air, and suspending its clamor of distant
trumpets, seemed only intent to bite. The crows scolded
like unquiet housewives, high in the air, while higher
still the buzzard wheeled in graceful but narrowed
circles.

The dried twigs in our path bent, instead of snapping,
as the weight of our horses' hoofs pressed upon

them, while the animal would put forward his ears, as
if expecting soon to be very much alarmed; and lastly,
to make all those signs certain, the rheumatic limbs of
an old Indian guide, who accompanied us, suddenly grew
lame, for he went limping upon his delicately formed
feet, and occasionally looking aloft with suspicious eyes,
he proclaimed, that there would be "storm too much!"

A storm in the forest is no trifling affair; the tree
under which you shelter yourself may draw the lightning
upon your head, or its ponderous limbs, pressed
upon by the winds, drag the heavy trunk to the earth,
crushing you with itself in its fall; or some dead branch
that has for years protruded from among the green
foliage, may on the very occasion of your presence, fall
to the ground and destroy you.

The rain too, which in the forest finds difficulty in
soaking into the earth, will in a few hours fill up the
ravines and water-courses, wash away the trail you may
be following, or destroy the road over which you
journey.

All these things we were from experience aware of,
and as we were some distance from our journey's end,
and also from any "settlement," we pressed forward to
a "clearing," which was in our path, as a temporary
stopping-place, until the coming storm should have
passed away.

Our resting-place for the night was on the banks of
the Mississippi; it consisted of a rude cabin in the centre

of a small garden-spot and field, and had once been
the residence of a squatter - but now deserted for causes
unknown to us. The cabin was most pleasantly situated,
and commanded a fine view of the river both up and
down its channel.

We reached this rude dwelling just as the sun was
setting, and his disappearance behind the lowlands of
the Mississippi, was indeed glorious. Refracted by the
humidity of the atmosphere into a vast globe of fire, it
seemed to be kindling up the Cypress trees that stretched
out before us, into a light blaze, while the gathering
clouds extended the conflagration far north and south,
and carried it upwards into the heavens. Indeed, so
glorious for a moment was the sight, that we almost
fancied that another Phaeton was driving the chariot of
the Sun, and that in its ungoverned course, its wheels
were fired; and the illusion was quite complete, when we
heard the distant thunder echoing from those brilliant
clouds, and saw the lightning, like silver arrows, flash across
the crimson heavens.

A moment more, and the sun was extinguished in
the waters - all light disappeared, and the sudden darkness
that follows sunset as you approach the tropics,
was upon us.

With the delightful consciousness of having already
escaped the storm, we gathered round a pleasant blaze
formed of dried twigs, kindled by flashing powder in the
pan of an old-fashioned gun. In the meantime, the

thunder grew more and more distinct, the lightning
flashed more brightly, and an occasional gust of wind,
accompanied by sleet, would penetrate between the logs
that composed our shelter.

An old wood-chopper, who made one of our party,
feeling unusually comfortable, grew loquacious; and he
detailed with great effect the woeful scenes he had been
in at different times of his life, the most awful of which
had been preceded, he said, by just such signs of weather
as were then exhibiting themselves.

Among other adventures, he had been wrecked while
acting as a "hand" on a flat-boat navigating the Mississippi. . .

He said he had come all the way from Pittsburgh,
at the head of the Ohio, to within two or three hundred
miles of Orleans, without meeting with any other serious
accident, than that of getting out of whiskey twice.

But one night the captain of the flat-boat said that
the weather was "crafty," a thing he thought himself, as
it was most too quiet to last long.

After detailing several other particulars, he finished
his story of being wrecked, as follows: "The quiet
weather I spoke of, was followed by a sudden change;
the river grew as rough as an alligator's back; thar was
the tallest kind of a noise overhead, and the fire flew
about up thar, like fur in a cat-fight.

" 'We'll put in shore,' said the captain; and we tried
to do it, that's sartain; but the way in which we always

walked off from a tree, whar we might have tied up, was
a caution to steamboats.

" 'Keep the current,' said the captain, 'and let us
sweat it out.' We went on this way some time, when I
told the captain - said I, Captain, I have never been in
these diggins afore, but if I haven't seen the same landscape
three times, then I can't speak the truth.

"At this the captain looked hard, and swore that we
were in an eddy, and doing nothing but whirling round.

"The lightning just at this time was very accommodating,
and showed us a big tree in the river that had
stuck fast, and was bowing up and down, ready to receive
us, and we found ourselves rushing straight on
to it.

"The owner of the bacon and other 'plunder,' with
which the boat was loaded, was on board, - and when
he saw the 'sawyer,' he eyed it as hard as a small thief
would a constable; says he, 'Captain, if that ar fellow
at the sweep (oar) (fellow meant me)' said he 'Captain,
if that ar fellow at the sweep don't bear on harder and
keep us off that tree, I am a busted-up pork merchant.'
I did bear on it as well as I could, but the current was
too strong, and we went on the 'sawyer' all standing.
The boat broke up like a dried leaf; pork and plunder
scattered, and I swam, half dead, to the shore.

"I lost in the whole operation just two shirts, eighteen
dollars in wages, and half a box of Kaintucky tobacker,
besides two game cocks.

"I tell you what, stranger, a storm on that ar Mississipp
ain't to be sneezed at."

The wood-chopper's story, when concluded, would
have occasioned a general laugh, had there not been
outside our cabin at this moment a portentous silence,
which alarmed us all.

The storm we thought had been upon us in all its
fury, but we now felt that more was to come; in the
midst of this expectation a stream of fire rushed from
the horizon upwards; where high over head could be
seen its zigzag course, then rushed downwards, apparently
almost at our very feet, - a few hundred yards from
us a tall oak dropped some of its gigantic limbs, and flashed
into a light blaze. The rain, however powerful previously,
now descended in one continued sheet. The
roof of our shelter seemed to gather water rather than
to protect us from it; little rivulets dashed across the
floor, and then widening into streams, we were soon literally
afloat. The descending floods sounded about us
like the roll-call of a muffled drum, the noise almost
deafening us, then dying off in the distance, as the
sweeping gusts of wind drove the clouds before them.
The burning forest meanwhile hissed and cracked, and
rolled up great columns of steam.

The turbid water of the Mississippi in all this war
of the elements, rushed on, save where it touched its
banks, with a smooth but mysterious looking surface
that resembled in the glare of the lightning, a mirror of

bronze, and to heighten this almost unearthly effect, the
forest trees that lined its most distant shores, rose up
like mountains of impenetrable darkness, against clouds
burning with fire.

The thunder cracked and echoed through the heavens,
and the half starved wolf, nearly dead with fear,
mingled his cries of distress with the noises without,
startling us with the momentary conviction, that we
heard the voices of men in the agony of death.

Hours passed away and the elements spent their
fury; and although the rain continued falling in torrents,
it was finally unaccompanied with lightning. So
sudden, indeed, were the extremes, that with your eyes
dilating with the glare of the heavens, you were, a moment
after, surrounded by the most perfect darkness.

Confused, bewildered, and soaking wet; we followed
the stoical example of our Indian guide, and settling
down in a crouching attitude, waited most impatiently
for the light of the morning.

The rain continued to descend in gusts, and the same
deep darkness was upon us; my companions soon fell
asleep as soundly as if they were at home; the long
drawn respirations added to my misery. Wound up to
the highest pitch of impatience, I was about starting to
my feet to utter some angry complaint, when the Indian,
whom I thought in a profound slumber, touched
me upon the arm, and with a peculiar sound, signified
that I must be silent and listen.

This I did do, but I heard nothing save the continued
clattering of the rain, and after a while I said so.
For some time the Indian made no reply, although
I was conscious that he was intensely interested in the
prevailing dull sounds without.

Suddenly he sprang upon his feet and groped his
way to the door. The intrusive noise awoke the woodchopper,
who instantly seizing his rifle, sang out:

"Halloo, what's the matter, you red varmint, snorting
in a man's face like a scared buffalo bull, what's
the matter?"

"River too near," was the slow reply of the Indian.

"He's right, so help me - ," shouted the woodchopper,
"the banks of the Mississippi ar caving in,"
and then with a spring he leaped through the door and
bid us follow.

His advice was quickly obeyed. The Indian was the
last to leave the cabin, and as he stepped from its threshold,
the weighty unhewn logs that composed it, crumbled,
along with the rich soil, into the swift-running
current of the mysterious river.

This narrow escape made our fortunes somewhat
bearable, and we waited with some little patience
for day.

At the proper time the sun rose gloriously bright,
as if its smiling face had never been obscured by a
cloud.

was the freshness and beauty of a new creation on every
thing; and the landscape of the previous night was indeed
altered. The long jutting point where stood the
squatter's hut and "clearing," had disappeared - house,
garden-spot, fields, and fences, were obliterated; the
water washed banks were lined only with the unbroken
forest.

The stranger, while looking, would never have
dreamed that the axe and the plough had been in the
vicinity.

The caving banks had swept away all signs of humanity,
and left every thing about us in wild and primitive
solitude.

GRIZZLY BEAR-HUNTING.

THE everyday sports of the wild woods include many
feats of daring which never find a pen of record. Constantly,
in the haunts of the savage, are being enacted
scenes of thrilling interest, the very details of which,
would make the denizen of enlightened life turn away
with instinctive dread.

Every Indian tribe has its heroes; celebrated respectively
for their courage, in different ways exhibited.
Some, for their acuteness in pursuing the enemy on the
war-path; and others, for the destruction they have accomplished
among the wild beasts of the forest.

A great hunter, among the Indians, is a marked personage.
It is a title that distinguishes its possessor
among his people as a prince; while the trophies of
exploits in which he has been engaged, hang about
his person as brilliantly as the decorations of so many
orders.

The country in which the Osage finds a home possesses
abundantly the grizzly bear, an animal formidable
beyond any other inhabitant of the North American
forests - an animal seemingly insensible to pain, uncertain
in its habits, and by its mighty strength able to
overcome any living obstacle that comes within its reach,
as an enemy. The Indian warrior, of any tribe, among
the haunts of the grizzly bear, finds no necklace so honorable
to be worn as one formed of the claws of this
gigantic animal, slain by his own prowess; and if he
can add an eagle's plume to his scalp-lock, plucked from
a bird shot while on the wing, he is honorable indeed.

The Indian's "smoke," like the fire-side of the white
man, is often the place where groups of people assemble
to relate whatever may most pleasantly while away the
hours of a long evening, or break the monotony of a dull
and idle day. On such occasions, the old "brave" will
sometimes relax from his natural gravity, and grow loquacious
over his chequered life. But no recital commends
such undivided attention as the adventures with
the grizzly bear - even the death of an enemy on the
war-path hardly vies with it in interest.

We have listened to these soul-stirring adventures
over the urn, or while lounging on the sofa; and the
recital of the risks run - the hardships endured - have
made us think them almost impossible, when compared
with the conventional self-indulgence of enlightened life.

who had strayed away from the scenes once necessary
for his life, and who loved, like the worn-out soldier, to
"fight the battles over," in which he was once engaged.

It may be, and is the province of the sportsman to
exaggerate - but the "hunter," surrounded by the magnificence
and sublimity of an American forest, earning
his bread by the hardy adventures of the chase, meets
with too much reality to find room for coloring - too
much of the sublime and terrible in the scenes with
which he is associated to be boastful of himself. While
apart from the favorable effects of civilization, he is also
separated from its contaminations; and boasting and
exaggeration are settlement weaknesses, and not the
products of the wild woods.

The hunter, whether Indian or white, presents one
of the most extraordinary exhibitions of the singular
capacity of the human senses to be improved by cultivation.
We are accustomed to look with surprise upon
the instincts of animals and insects. We wonder and
admire the sagacity they display, for the purposes of
self-preservation - both in attack and defence. The
lion, the bear, the beaver, the bee, all betray a species
of intelligence, that seems for their particular purposes
superior to the wisdom of man; yet, on examination,
it will be found that this is not the case. For all histories
of the human denizen of the forest show, that the
Indian surpasses the brute in sagacity, while the white
hunter excels both animal and savage.

The unfortunate deaf, dumb, and blind girl, in one
of our public institutions,* selects her food, her clothing,
and her friends, by the touch alone - so delicate has it
become, from the mind's being directed to that sense
alone.

The forest hunter is compelled by circumstances to
cultivate his sight, to almost the same degree of perfection
characterizing the blind girl's touch, and experience
at last renders it so keen, that the slightest touch of a
passing object on the leaves, trees, or earth, leaves to
him a deep and visible impression, though to the common
eye unseen as the path of the bird through the air.
This knowledge governs the chase and the war-path;
this knowledge is what, when excelled in, makes the
master-spirit among the rude inhabitants of the woods:
and that man is the greatest chief, who follows the coldest
trail, and leaves none behind him by his own footsteps.

The hunter in pursuit of the grizzly bear is governed
by this instinct of sight - it guides him with more certainty
than the hound is directed by his nose. The impressions
of the bear's footsteps upon the leaves, its
marks on the trees, its resting-places, are all known long
before the bear is really seen; and the hunter, while
thus following "the trail," calculates the very sex,
weight, and age with certainty. Thus it is that he will

neglect, or choose a trail - for in those indistinct paths,
are visible to his mind's eye, bear that are young and
old, lean and fat. You look into the forest, all is vacant;
the hunter; at a casual glance, detects where
has passed his object of pursuit, and grows as enthusiastic
over this spiritual representation as if the reality
was before him - and herein, perhaps, lies the distinction
between the sportsman, and the huntsman. The hunter
follows his object by his own knowledge and instinct,
while the sportsman employs the instinct of domesticated
animals to assist in his pursuits.

The different methods by which to destroy the grizzly
bear, by those who hunt them, are as numerous as the
bears that are killed. They are not animals which permit
of a system in hunting them; and it is for this reason
that they are so dangerous and difficult to destroy. The
experience of one hunt may cost a limb or a life in the
next one, if used as a criterion; and fatal, indeed, is a
mistake, - when you grapple with an animal, whose gigantic
strength enables him to lift a horse in his huge
arms, and bear it away as a prize. There is one terrible
exception to this rule; one habit of the animal may be
certainly calculated upon, but a daring heart only can
take advantage of it.

The grizzly bear, like the tiger and lion, have their
caves in which they live; but they use them principally
as a safe lodging-place when the cold of winter renders
them torpid and disposed to sleep. To these caves they

retire late in the fall, and they seldom venture out until
awakened by the genial warmth of spring. Sometimes
two occupy one cave, but this is not often the case, as
the unsociability of the animal is proverbial, it preferring
to be solitary and alone.

A knowledge of the forests, and an occasional trailing
for bear, informs the hunter of these caves; and the
only habit of the grizzly bear that can with certainty be
taken advantage of, is the one of his being in his cave at
the proper season. And the hunter has the terrible
liberty of entering this den single-handed, and there
destroying him. Of this only method of hunting the
grizzly bear we would attempt a description.

The thought of entering a cave, inhabited by one of
the most powerful beasts of prey, is calculated to try the
strength of the stoutest nerves; and when it is considered
that the least trepidation, the slightest mistake,
may cause, and probably will result, in the instant death
of the hunter, it certainly exhibits the highest demonstration
of physical courage to pursue such a method of
hunting. Yet there are many persons in the forests of
North America who engage in such perilous adventures
with no other object in view than the "sport" or a
hearty meal.

The hunter's preparations to "beard the lion in his
den," commence with examining the mouth of the cave
he is about to enter. Upon the signs there exhibited,
he decides whether the bear be alone; for if there be

two, the cave is never entered. The size of the bear is
also thus known, and the time since he was last in search
of food.

The way that this knowledge is obtained, from indications
so slight, or unseen to an ordinary eye, is one
of the greatest mysteries of the woods.

Placing ourselves at the mouth of the cave containing
a grizzly bear, to our untutored senses, there would
be nothing to distinguish it from one that is unoccupied;
but let some Diana of the forest touch our eyes, and
give us the instinct of sight possessed by the hunter,
and we would argue thus:

"From all the marks about the mouth of the cave,
the occupant has not been out for a great length of time,
for the grass and the earth have not been lately disturbed.

"The bear is in the cave, for the last tracks made
are with the toe-marks towards it.

"There is but one bear, because the tracks are regular
and of the same size.

"He is a large animal; the length of the step and
the size of the paw indicate this.

"And he is fat, because his hind feet do not step in
the impressions made by the fore ones, as is always the
case with a lean bear."

Such are the signs and arguments that present themselves
to the hunter; and mysterious as they seem,
when not understood, when once explained, they strike

the imagination as being founded on the unerring simplicity
and certainty of nature.

It may be asked, how is it that the grizzly bear is so
formidable to numbers when met in the forest, but when
in a cave can be assailed successfully by a single man?
In answer to this, we must recollect that the bear is
only attacked in his cave when he is in total darkness,
and suffering from surprise and the torpidity of the
season.

These three things are in this method of hunting
taken advantage of; and but for these advantages, no
quickness of eye, steadiness of nerve or forest experience,
would protect for an instant, the intruder to the
cave of the grizzly bear.

The hunter, having satisfied himself about the cave,
prepares a candle, which he makes out of the wax taken
from the comb of wild bees, softened by the grease of
the bear. This candle has a large wick, and emits a
brilliant flame. Nothing else is needed but the rifle.
The knife and the belt are useless; for if a struggle
should ensue that would make it available, the foe is too
powerful to mind its thrusts before the hand using it
would be dead.

Bearing the candle before him, with the rifle in a
convenient position, the hunter fearlessly enters the
cave. He is soon surrounded by darkness, and is totally
unconscious where his enemy will reveal himself.
Having fixed the candle in the ground in firm position,

with a provided apparatus, he lights it, and its brilliant
flame soon penetrates into the recesses of the cavern -
its size of course, rendering the illumination more or less
complete.

The hunter now places himself on his belly, having
the candle between the back part of the cave where the
bear sleeps, and himself; in this position, with the muzzle
of the rifle protruding out in front of him, he patiently
waits for his victim. A short time only elapses
before Bruin is aroused by the light. The noise made
by his starting from sleep attracts the hunter, and he
soon distinguishes the black mass; moving, stretching,
and yawning like a person awaked from a deep sleep.

The hunter moves not, but prepares his rifle; the
bear, finally aroused, turns his head towards the candle,
and, with slow and waddling steps, approaches it.

Now is the time that tries the nerves of the hunter;
it is too late to retreat, and his life hangs upon his certain
aim and the goodness of his powder. The slightest
variation in the bullet, or a flashing pan, and he is a
doomed man.

So tenacious of life is the common black bear, that
it is frequently wounded in its most vital parts, and still
will escape, or give terrible battle.

But the grizzly bear seems to possess an infinitely
greater tenacity of life. His skin, covered by matted
hair, and the huge bones of his body, protect the heart
as if incased in a wall; while the brain is buried in a
skull, compared to which, adamant is not harder. A

bullet, striking the bear's forehead, would flatten, if it
struck squarely on the solid bone, as if fired against a
rock; and dangerous indeed would it be to take the
chance of reaching the animal's heart.

With these fearful odds against the hunter, the bear
approaches the candle, growing every moment more sensible
of some uncommon intrusion. He reaches the
blaze, and raises his paw to strike it, or lifts his nose to
scent it, - either of which will extinguish it, and leave the
hunter and the bear in total darkness.

This dreadful moment is taken advantage of - the
loud report of the rifle fills the cave with stunning noise
- and as the light disappears, the ball, if successfully
fired, penetrates the eye of the huge animal - the only
place where it would find a passage to the brain; and
this not only gives the death-wound, but instantly paralyzes,
that no temporary resistance may be made.

On such fearful chances the American hunter perils
his life, and often thoughtlessly, courts the danger.

A PIANO IN ARKANSAS.

WE shall never forget the excitement which seized
upon the inhabitants of the little village of Hardscrabble,
as the report spread through the community, that a real
piano had actually arrived within its precincts.

Speculation was afloat as to its appearance and its use.
The name was familiar to every body; but what . it
precisely meant, no one could tell. That it had legs
was certain ; - for a stray volume of some literary
traveller was one of the most conspicuous works in the
floating library of Hardscrabble; and said traveller
stated, that he had seen a piano somewhere in New
England with pantalettes on - also, an old foreign paper
was brought forward, in which there was an advertisement
headed "Soiree," which informed the "citizens generally,"
that Mr. Bobolink would preside at the piano.

This was presumed by several wiseacres, who had been to
a menagerie, to mean, that Mr. Bobolink stirred the piano
up with a long pole, in the same way that the showman did
the lions and rhi-no-ce-rus.

So, public opinion was in favor of its being an animal,
though a harmless one; for there had been a land speculator.
through the village a few weeks previously, who distributed
circulars of a "Female Academy," for the accomplishment of
young ladies. These circulars distinctly stated "the use of
the piano to be one dollar per month."

One knowing old chap said, if they would tell him what so-i-ree
meant, he would tell them what a piano was, and no mistake.

The owner of this strange instrument was no less than a very quiet
and very respectable late merchant of a little town somewhere
"north," who having failed at home, had emigrated into the new
and hospitable country of Arkansas, for the purpose of bettering
his for tune, and escaping the heartless sympathy of his more
lucky neighbors, who seemed to consider him a very bad and degraded
man because he had become honestly poor.

The new comers were strangers, of course. The house in which
they were setting up their furniture was too little arranged
"to admit of calls;" and as the family seemed very little
disposed to court society, all prospects of immediately solving
the mystery that hung about the piano seemed hopeless. In the
mean time public opinion was "rife."

The depository of this strange thing was looked upon by the
passers-by with indefinable awe; and as noises

unfamiliar, sometimes reached the street, it was presumed
that the piano made them, and the excitement
rose higher than ever - in the midst of it, one or two
old ladies, presuming upon their age and respectability,
called upon the strangers and inquired after their
health, and offered their services and friendship; meantime
every thing in the house was eyed with the greatest
intensity, but seeing nothing strange, a hint was
given about the piano. One of the new family observed
carelessly, "that it had been much injured by bringing
out, that the damp had affected its tones, and that one
of its legs was so injured that it would not stand up,
and for the present it would not ornament the parlor."

Here was an explanation, indeed: injured in bringing
out - damp affecting its tones - leg broken. "Poor
thing!" ejaculated the old ladies with real sympathy,
as they proceeded homeward; "travelling has evidently
fatigued it; the Mass-is-sip fogs have given it a cold,
poor thing!" and they wished to see it with increased
curiosity.

The "village" agreed that if Moses Mercer, familiarly
called Mo Mercer," was in town, they would have
a description of the piano, and the uses to which it was
put; and fortunately, in the midst of the excitement,
"Mo" arrived, he having been temporarily absent on a
hunting expedition.

Moses Mercer was the only son of "old Mercer,"
who was, and had been, in the State Senate ever since

Arkansas was admitted into the "Union." Mo, from
this fact, received great glory, of course; his father's
greatness alone would have stamped him with superiority;
but his having been twice to the "Capitol"
when the legislature was in session, stamped his claims
to pre-eminence over all competitors.

Mo Mercer was the oracle of the renowned village
of Hardscrabble.

"Mo" knew every thing; he had all the consequence
and complacency of a man who had never seen his
equal, and never expected to. "Mo" bragged extensively
upon his having been to the "Capitol" twice, -
of his there having been in the most "fashionable society,"
- of having seen the world. His return to town
was therefore received with a shout. The arrival of the
piano was announced to him, and he alone of all the
community, was not astonished at the news

His insensibility was considered wonderful. He
treated the piano as a thing that he was used to, and
went on, among other things to say, that he had seen
more pianos in the "Capitol" than he had ever seen
woodchucks; and that it was not an animal, but a musical
instrument, played upon by the ladies; and he wound
up his description by saying that the way "the dear
creeters could pull music out of it was a caution to
hoarse owls."

The new turn given to the piano excitement in
Hardscrabble by Mo Mercer, was like pouring oil on

fire to extinguish it, for it blazed out with more vigor
than ever. That it was a musical instrument, made it a
rarer thing in that wild country than if it had been an
animal, and people of all sizes, colors, and degrees, were
dying to see and hear it.

Jim Cash was Mo Mercer's right-hand man; in the
language of refined society, he ,vas "Mo's toady," - in
the language of Hardscrabble, he was "Mo's wheelhorse."
Cash believed in Mo Mercer with an abandonment
that was perfectly ridiculous. Mr. Cash was dying
to see the piano, and the first opportunity he had
alone with his Quixote, he expressed the desire that
was consuming his vitals.

"We'll go at once and see it," said Mercer.

"Strangers!" echoed the frightened Cash.

'Humbug! Do you think I have visited the 'Capitol'
twice, and don't know how to treat fashionable society?
Come along at once, Cash," said Mercer.

Off the pair started, Mercer all confidence, and Cash
all fears, as to the propriety of the visit. These fears
Cash frankly expressed; but Mercer repeated, for the
thousandth time, his experience in the fashionable society
of the "Capitol, and pianos," which he said "was
synonymous" - and he finally told Cash, to comfort him,
that however abashed and ashamed he might be in the
presence of the ladies, "that he needn't fear of sticking,
for he would pull him through."

broad galleries of the house that contained the object
of so much curiosity. The doors and windows were closed,
and a suspicious look was on every thing.

"Do they always keep a house closed up this way
that has a piano in it?" asked Cash, mysteriously.

"Certainly," replied Mercer; "the damp would destroy
its tones."

Repeated knocks at the doors, and finally at the
windows, satisfied both Cash and Mercer that nobody
was at home. In the midst of their disappointment,
Cash discovered a singular machine at the end of the
gallery, crossed by bars and rollers, and surmounted
with an enormous crank. Cash approached it on tiptoe;
he had a presentiment that he beheld the object of
his curiosity, and as its intricate character unfolded itself,
he gazed with distended eyes, and asked Mercer,
with breathless anxiety, "What that strange and incomprehensible
box was?"

Mercer turned to the thing as coolly as a north wind
to an icicle, and said "that was it."

"That IT!!" exclaimed Cash, opening his eyes still
wider; and then recovering himself, he asked to see
"the tones."

Mercer pointed to the cross-bars and rollers. With
trembling hands, with a resolution that would enable a
man to be scalped without winking, Cash reached out
his hand, and seized the handle of the crank (Cash, at
heart, was a brave and fearless man); he gave it a turn,

the machinery grated harshly, and seemed to clamor for
something to be put in its maw.

"What delicious sounds!" said Cash.

"Beautiful!" observed the complacent Mercer, at
the same time seizing Cash's arm, and asking him to
desist, for fear of breaking the instrument, or getting it
out of tune.

The simple caution was sufficient; and Cash, in the
joy of the moment, at what he had done and seen, looked
as conceited as Mo Mercer himself.

Busy, indeed, was Cash, from this time forward, in
explaining to gaping crowds the exact appearance of the
piano, how he had actually taken hold of it, and, as
his friend Mo Mercer observed, "pulled music out
of it."

The curiosity of the village was thus allayed, and
consequently died comparatively away; Cash, however,
having risen to almost as much importance as Mo Mercer,
for having seen and handled the thing.

Our "Northern family" knew little or nothing of all
this excitement; they received meanwhile the visits and
congratulations of the hospitable villagers, and resolved
to give a grand party to return some of the kindness
they had received, and the piano was, for the first time,
moved into the parlor. No invitation on this occasion
was neglected; early at the post was every visitor, for it
was rumored that Miss Patience Doolittle would, in the
course of the evening, "perform on the piano."

The excitement was immense. The supper was passed
over with a contempt, rivalling that which is cast
upon an excellent farce played preparatory to a dull
tragedy, in which the star is to appear. The furnitures
was all critically examined; but nothing could be discovered
answering Cash's description. An enormously
thick-leafed table, with a "spread" upon it, attracted
little attention, timber being so very cheap in a new
country, and so every body expected soon to see the
piano "brought in."

Mercer, of course, was the hero of the evening;
he talked much and loudly. Cash, as well as several
young ladies, went into hysterics at his wit. Mercer,
as the evening wore away, grew exceedingly conceited,
even for him; and he graciously asserted that the company
present reminded him of his two visits to the "Capitol,"
and other associations, equally exclusive and peculiar.

The evening wore on apace, and still - no piano. That
hope deferred which maketh the heart sick, was felt by
some elderly ladies, and by a few younger ones; and
Mercer was solicited to ask Miss Patience Doolittle, to
favor the company with the presence of the piano.

"Certainly," said Mercer, and with the grace of a
city dandy he called upon the lady to gratify all present
with a little music, prefacing his request with the remark,
that if she was fatigued, "his friend Cash would give the
machine a turn."

Miss Patience said she was gratified to hear that Mr.
Cash was a musician; she admired people who had a
musical taste. Whereupon Cash fell into a chair, as he
afterwards observed, "chawed-up."

Oh that Beau Brummel, or any of his admirers could
have seen Mo Mercer all this while! Calm as a summer
morning - complacent as a newly-painted sign - he
smiled and patronized, and was the only unexcited person
in the room.

Miss Patience rose, - a sigh escaped from all present,
- the piano was evidently to be brought in. She
approached the thick-leafed table, and removed the
covering, throwing it carelessly and gracefully aside;
opened the instrument, and presented the beautiful arrangement
of dark and white keys.

Mo Mercer at this, for the first time in his life, looked
confused; he was Cash's authority in his descriptions
of the appearance of the piano; while Cash himself, began
to recover the moment that he ceased to be on object
of attention. Many a whisper now ran through the
room as to the "tones," and more particularly the
"crank;" none could see them.

Miss Patience took her seat, ran her fingers over a
few octaves, and if "Moses in Egypt" was not perfectly

executed, Moses in Hardscrabble was. The dulcet
sounds ceased. "Miss," said Cash, the moment that
he could express himself, so entranced was he by the
music, - "Miss Doolittle, what was that instrument Mo
Mercer showed me in your gallery once, that went by a
crank, and had rollers in it?"

It was now the time for Miss Patience to blush; so
away went the blood from confusion to her cheeks; she
hesitated, stammered, and said, "if Mr. Cash must know,
it was a--a--a--Yankee washing machine."

The name grated on Mo Mercer's ears as if rusty
nails had been thrust into them; the heretofore invulnerable
Mercer's knees trembled; the sweat started to
his brow as he heard the taunting whispers of "visiting
the Capitol twice," and seeing pianos as plenty as woodchucks.

The fashionable vices of envy and maliciousness, were
that moment sown in the village of Hardscrabble; and
Mo Mercer - the great - the confident - the happy and
self-possessed - surprising as it may seem, was the first
victim sacrificed to their influence.

Time wore on, and pianos became common, and Mo
Mercer less popular; and he finally disappeared altogether,
on the evening of the day on which a Yankee
peddler of notions sold, to the highest bidder, "six patent,
warranted, and improved Mo Mercer pianos."

WILD-CAT HUNTING.

IN the southern portions of the United States, but especially
in Louisiana, the wild-cat is found in abundance.
The dense swamps that border on the Mississippi, protect
this vicious species of game from extermination,
and foster their increase; and, although every year vast
numbers are killed, they remain seemingly as numerous
as they ever were "in the memory of the oldest inhabitant."

The wild-cat seeks the most solitary retreats in
which to rear its young, where in some natural hole in
the ground, or some hollow tree, it finds protection for
itself and its kittens from the destructive hand of man.
At night, or early morn, it comes abroad, stealing over
the dried leaves, in search of prey, as quietly as a
zephyr, or ascending the forest tree with almost the
ease of a bird.

The nest on the tree, and the burrow in the ground
are alike invaded; while the poultry-yard of the farmer,
and his sheepfold, are drawn on liberally, to supply the
cat with food. It hunts down the rabbit, coon, and possum,
and springs from the elevated bough upon the bird
perched beneath, catching in its mouth its victim; and
will do this while descending like an arrow in speed,
and with the softness of a feather to the ground.
Nothing can exceed its beauty of motion when in pursuit
of game, or sporting in play. No leap seems too
formidable-no attitude ungraceful. It runs - flies -
leaps - skips - and is at ease, in an instant of time;
every hair of its body seems redolent with life.

Its disposition is untamable; it seems insensible
to kindness; a mere mass of ill-nature, having no sympathies
with any, not even of its own kind. It is for
this reason, no doubt, that it is so recklessly pursued;
its paw being, like the hand of the Ishmaelite, against
every man; and it most indubitably follows, that every
man's dogs, sticks, .and guns, are against it. The
hounds themselves, that hunt equally well the cat and
the fox, pursue the former with a clamorous joy, and
kill it with a zest which they do not display when finishing
off a fine run after Reynard. In fact, as an animal
of sport, the cat in many respects is preferable to the
fox; its trail is always warmer, and it shows more sagacity
in eluding its enemies.

professedly for a fox-chase, and it turns out "cat,"
and often both cat and fox are killed, after a short but
hard morning's work.

The chase is varied, and is frequently full of amusing
incident, for the cat, as might be expected, will take
to the trees, to avoid pursuit, and this habit of the animal
allows the sportsman to meet it on quite familiar,
terms. If the tree be a tall one, the excitable creature
manages to have its face obscured by the distance; but
if it takes to a dead, limbless trunk, where the height
will permit its head to be fairly seen, as it looks down
upon the pack that, with such open mouths,

"Fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth,"

you will see a rare exhibition of rage and fury; eyes
that seem like living balls of fire, poisonous claws, which
clutch the insensible wood with deep indentations; the
foam trembles on its jaws; the hair stands up like porcupine
quills; the ears press down to the head, forming
as perfect a picture of vicious, ungovernable destructiveness
as can be imagined. A charge of mustard-seed
shot, or a poke with a stick when at bay, will cause it to
desert its airy abode; and it no sooner touches the
ground, than it breaks off at a killing pace, the pack
like mad fiends on its trail.

Besides "treeing," the cat will take advantage of
some hole in the ground, and disappear, when it meets

with these hiding-places, as suddenly as ghosts vanish
at cock-crowing. The hounds come up to the hiding-
place, and a fight ensues. The first head intruded into
the cat's hole is sure to meet with a warm reception.
Claws and teeth do their work.

Still the staunch hound heeds it not, and either he
gets a hold himself, or acts as a bait to draw the cat
from its burrow; thus fastened, the dog, being the most
powerful in strength, backs out, dragging his enemy
along with him; and no sooner is the cat's head seen by
the rest of the pack, than they pounce upon it, and in a
few moments the "nine lives" of the "varmint" are
literally chawed-up.

At one of these burrowings, a huge cat intruded into
a hole so small, that an ordinarily large hound could not
follow. A little stunted but excellent dog, rejoicing in
the name of Ringwood, from his diminutiveness succeeded
in forcing his way into the hole after the cat; in an
instant a faint scream was heard, and the little fellow
gave symptoms of having caught a Tartar. One of the
party present stooped down, and running his arm under
the dog's body, pressed it forward, until he could feel
that the cat had the dog firmly clawed by each shoulder,
with his nose in the cat's mouth; in this situation, by
pressing the dog firmly under the chest, the two were
drawn from the hole.

The cat hung on until he discovered that his victim
was surrounded by numerous friends, when he let go

his cruel hold, the more vigorously to defend himself.
Ringwood; though covered with jetting blood, jumped
upon the cat, and shook away as if unharmed in the
contest.

Sportsmen, in hunting the cat, provide themselves
generally with pistols-not for the purpose of killing,
the cat, but to annoy it, so that it will leap from the
tree, when it has taken to one. Sometimes from negligence
these infantile shooting-irons are left at home, and
the cat gets safely out of the reach of sticks, or whatever
other missile may be convenient. This is a most provoking
affair; dogs and sportsmen lose all patience;
and as no expedient suggests itself, the cat escapes for
the time.

I once knew a cat thus perched out of reach, that
was brought to terms in a very singular manner.

The tree on which the animal was lodged being a
very high one, and secure from all interruption, it looked
down upon its pursuers with the most provoking complacency;
every effort to dislodge it had failed, and the
hunt was about to be abandoned in despair, when one
of the sportsmen discovered a grape-vine that passed
directly over the cat's body, and by running his eyes
along its circumvolutions, traced it down to the ground;
a judicious jerk at the vine touched the cat on the rump;
I this was most unexpected, and it instantly leaped to the
ground from a height of over forty feet; striking on its
fore paws, and throwing a sort of rough somerset, it

started off as sound in limb and wind, as if he had just
jumped from a "huckleberry" bush.

The hunter of the wild turkey while "calling," in
imitation of the hen, to allure the gobbler within reach
of his gun, will sometimes be annoyed by the the appearance
of the wild-cat stealing up to the place from whence the
sounds proceed. The greatest caution on such occasions
is visible in the cat; it progresses by the slowest possible
movements, crawling along like a serpent. The hunter
knows that the intruder has spoiled his turkey sport for
the morning, and his only revenge is to wait patiently,
and give the cat the contents of his gun, then, minus all
game, he goes home anathematizing the whole race of
cats, for thus interfering with his sport and his dinner.

Of all the peculiarities of the cat, its untameable and
quarrelsome disposition, is its most marked characteristic.

There is no half-way mark, no exception, no occasional
moment of good nature; starvation and a surfeit,
blows and kind words, kicks, cuffs, and fresh meat, reach
not the sympathies of the wild cat.

He has all the greediness of a pawnbroker, the ill nature
of a usurer, the meanness of a pettifogging lawyer, the blind
rage of the hog, and the apparent insensibility
to pain of the turtle: like a woman, the wild-cat is incomparable
with any thing but itself.

In expression of face, the wild-cat singularly resembles
the rattlesnake. The skulls of these two "varmints"

have the same venomous expression, the same
demonstration of fangs; and probably no two living creatures
attack each other with more deadly ferocity and
hate. They will stare at each other with eyes filled
with defiance and burning with fire; one hissing, and
the other snarling; presenting a most terrible picture of
the malevolence of passion.

The serpent in his attitudes is all grace - the cat, all
activity. The serpent moves with the quickness of
lightning while making the attack; the cat defends
with motions equally quick, bounding from side to side
striking with its paws. Both are often victims, for they
seldom separate until death-blows have been inflicted on
either side.

The western hunter, when he wishes to cap the climax
of braggadocio, with respect to his own prowess,
says, "He can whip his weight in wild-cats." This is
saying all that can be said, for it would seem, considering
its size, that the cat in a fight can bite fiercer, scratch
harder, and live longer than any other animal whatever.

"I am a roaring earthquake in a fight," sung out
one of the half-horse, half-alligator species of fellows -
"a real snorter of the universe. I can strike as hard as
fourth proof lightning, and keep it up, rough and tumble,
as long as a wild-cat."

These high encomiums on the character of the pugnacity
of the cat are beyond question.

that a person may be smarter than he looks. A singed
wild-cat, as such an illustration, would be sublime.

The Indians, who, in their notions and traditions,
are always picturesque and beautiful, imagine that the
rattlesnake, to live, must breathe the poisonous air of
the swamps, and the exhalations of decayed animal matter;
while the cat has the attribute of gloating over the
meaner displays of evil passions of a quarrelsome person;
for, speaking of a quarrelsome family, they say,
"That the lodge containing it fattens the wild-cat."

MIKE FINK, THE KEEL-BOATMAN.

Occasionally, may be seen on the Ohio and Mississippi
rivers singularly hearty-looking men, who would
puzzle a stranger, as to-their history and age. Their
bodies always exhibit a powerful development of muscle
and bone; their cheeks are prominent, and you would
pronounce them men enjoying perfect health in middle
life, were it not for their heads, which, if not entirely
bald, will be but sparsely covered with steel-gray hair.

Another peculiarity about this people is, that they
have a singular knowledge of all the places on the river;
every bar and bend is spoken of with precision and
familiarity; every town is recollected before it was half
as large as the present, or, "when it was no town at all."
Innumerable places are marked out by them, where once
was an Indian fight, or a rendezvous of robbers.

individuals are all characteristic of sterling common
sense - the manner modest yet full of self-reliance - the
language strong and forcible, from superiority of mind,
rather than from education - the dress studied for comfort,
rather than fashion - on the whole, you become attached
to them and court their society. The good humor -
the frankness - the practical sense - the reminiscences -
the powerful frame - all indicate a character,
at the present day anomalous; and such, indeed, is the
case, for your acquaintance will be one of the few remaining
people now spoken of as the "Last of the keel-
boatmen."

Thirty years ago the navigation of the Western waters
was confined to this class of men; the obstacles
presented to the pursuit of commerce in those swift-
running and wayward waters had to be overcome by
physical force alone; the navigator's arm grew strong
as he guided his rude craft past the "snag" and
"sawyer," or kept it off the no less dreaded "bar."

Besides all this, the deep forests that covered the
river banks concealed the wily Indian, who gloated over
the shedding of blood. The qualities of the frontier
warrior, therefore, associated themselves with those of
the boatman, while these men would, when at home,
drop both these characters in that of cultivator of the
soil.

It is no wonder, then, that they were brave,
hardy, and open-handed men: their whole lives were a

round of manly excitement; they were, when most natural,
hyperbolical in thought and in deed, if compared
with any other class of men. Their bravery and chivalrous
deeds were performed without a herald to proclaim
them to the world - they were the mere incidents
of a border life, considered too common to attract attention,
or outlive the time of a passing wonder. Death
has nearly destroyed the men, and obscurity is fast obliterating
the record of their deeds; but a few examples
still exist, as if to justify the truth of these wonderful
exploits, now almost wholly confined to tradition.

Among the flat-boatmen there were none who gained
more notoriety than Mike Fink. His name is still remembered
along the whole of the Ohio, as a man who
excelled his fellows in every thing, - particularly in his
rifle-shot, which was acknowledged to be unsurpassed.
Probably no man ever lived, who could compete with
Mike in the latter accomplishment. Strong as Hercules,
free from all nervous excitement, possessed of perfect
health, and familiar with his weapon from childhood;
he raised the rifle to his eye, and, having once
taken sight, it was as firmly fixed as if buried in a
rock.

The rifle was Mike's pride, and he rejoiced on all occasions
where he could bring it into use, whether it was
turned against the beast of prey or the more savage Indian:
and in his day, the last named was the common
foe with whom Mike and his associates had to contend.

On the occasion when we would particularly introduce
Mike to the reader, he had bound himself for a
while to the pursuits of trade, until a voyage from the
head-waters of the Ohio, and down the Mississippi,
could be completed. Heretofore he had kept himself
exclusively to the Ohio, but a liberal reward, and some
curiosity, prompted him to extend his business character
beyond his ordinary habits and inclinations.

In the accomplishment of this object, he lolled
carelessly over the big "sweep" that guided the "flat"
on which he officiated; - the current of the river bore the
boat swiftly along, and made his labor light. Wild and
uncultivated as Mike appeared, he loved nature, and had
a soul that sometimes felt, while admiring it, an exalted
enthusiasm.

The beautiful Ohio was his favorite stream. From
where it runs no stronger than a gentle rivulet, to where
it mixes with the muddy Mississippi, Mike was as
familiar with its meanderings, as a child could be with
those of a flower-garden. He could not help noticing
with sorrow the desecrating hand of improvement as he
passed along, and half soliloquizing, and half addressing
his companions, he broke forth:

"I knew these parts afore a squatter's axe had
blazed a tree; 'twasn't then pulling a - sweep to
get a living but pulling the trigger, did the business.
Those were times to see; - a man might call himself
lucky then.

"Who ever found wild buffalo, or a brave Indian,
in a city? Where's the fun, the frolicking the fighting?
Gone! Gone!

"The rifle won't make a man a living now - he
must turn mule and work. If forests continue this way
to be used up, I may yet be smothered in a settlement.
Boys, this 'ere life won't do. I'll stick to the broadhorn
'cordin' to contract; but once done with it, I'm off
for a frolic. If the Choctas or Cherokees on the Massissip
don't give us a brush as we pass along, I shall
grow as poor as a starved wolf in a pitfall.

"I must, to live peaceably, point my rifle at something
more dangerous than varmint. Six months and
no fight, would spire me worse than a 'tack of rheumatism."

Mike ceased speaking. The then beautiful village
of Louisville appeared in sight; the labor of landing the
boat occupied his attention-the bustle and confusion
that followed such an incident ensued; and Mike was his
own master by law, until his employers ceased trafficking,
and again required his services.

At the time we write of, a great many renegade Indians
lived about the settlements, which is still the case
in the extreme southwest. These Indians are generally
the most degraded of their tribe - outcasts, who, for

crime or dissipation, are no longer allowed to associate
with their people; they live by hunting or stealing, and
spend, in the towns, their precarious gains in intoxication.

Among the throng that crowded on the flat-boat on
his arrival, were a number of these unfortunate beings,
they were influenced by no other motive than that
of loitering round in idle speculation at what was
going on.

Mike was attracted towards them at sight; and as
he was idle, and consequently in the situation that is
deemed most favorable to mischief it struck him that it
was a good opportunity to have a little sport at the
Indians' expense.

Without ceremony, he gave a terrific war-whoop;
and then mixing the language of the aborigines and his
own together, he went on savage fashion, and bragged of
his triumphs and victories on the war-path, with all the
seeming earnestness of a real "brave." Nor were taunting
words spared to exasperate the poor creatures, who,
while perfectly helpless, listened to the tales of their own
greatness, and their own shame, until wound up to the
highest pitch of impotent exasperation. Mike's companions
joined in; thoughtless boys caught the spirit of
the affair; and the Indians were goaded until they, in
turn made battle with their tongues.

Then commenced a system of running against them,
pulling off their blankets, joined with a thousand other

indignities; finally the Indians made a precipitate retreat
ashore, amid the hooting and jeering of a thoughtless
crowd which considered them as poor devils, destitute
of both feeling and humanity.

Among this band of outcasts was a Cherokee, who
bore the name of Proud Joe; what his real cognomen
was, no one knew, for he was taciturn, haughty - and, in
spite of his poverty and his maimer of life, won the name
we have mentioned. His face was expressive of talent,
but it was furrowed by the most terrible habits of
drunkenness. That he was a superior Indian was admitted
and it was also understood that he was banished
from his mountain home, his tribe being then numerous
and powerful, for some great crime. He was always
looked up to by his companions, and managed, however
intoxicated he might be, to sustain a singularly proud
bearing, which did not even depart from him while prostrate
on the ground.

Joe was careless of his person and habits - in this
respect he was behind his fellows; but one ornament of
his, was attended to with a care which would have done
honor to him if still surrounded by his people, and amid
his native woods. Joe still wore, with Indian dignity,
his scalplock; he ornamented it with taste, and cherished
it, as report said, until some Indian messenger of vengeance
should tear it from his head, as expiatory of his
numerous grimes. Mike had noticed this peculiarity;
and, reaching out his hand, plucked from the revered
scalplock a hawk's feather.

The Indian glared horribly on Mike as he consummated
the insult, snatched the feather from his hand,
then shaking his clenched fist in the air, as if calling on
heaven for revenge retreated with his friends.

Mike saw that he had roused the soul of the savage,
and he marvelled wonderfully that so much resentment
should be exhibited; and as an earnest to Proud Joe
that the wrong he had done him should not rest unrevenged,
he swore that he would cut the scalplock off
close to his head, the first convenient opportunity, and
then he thought no more about it.

The morning following the arrival of the boat at
Louisville was occupied in making preparations to pursue
the voyage down the river. Nearly every thing
was completed, and Mike had taken his favorite place
at the sweep, when looking up the river bank, he beheld
at some distance Joe and his companions, and perceived,
from their gesticulations, that they were making him the
subject of conversation.

Mike thought instantly of several ways in which he
could show them altogether, a fair fight, and then whip
them with ease; he also reflected with what extreme
satisfaction he would enter into the spirit of the arrangement
and other matters to him equally pleasing - when
all the Indians disappeared, save Joe himself,
who stood at times viewing Mike in moody silence, and then
staring round at passing objects.

was below him, his head and the upper part of his body
were relieved boldly against the sky, and in one of his
movements, he brought his profile face to view. The
prominent scalp-lock and its adornments seemed to be
more striking than ever, and again roused the pugnacity
of Mike Fink; in an instant he raised his rifle, always
loaded and at command brought it to his eye, and, before
he could be prevented, drew sight upon Proud Joe,
and fired. The ball whistled loud and shrill, and Joe,
springing his whole length into the air, fell upon the
ground.

The cold-blooded murder was noticed by fifty persons
at least, and there arose from the crowd a universal
cry of horror and indignation at the bloody deed
Mike, himself, seemed to be much astonished, and in an
instant reloaded his rifle, and as a number of white persons
rushed towards the boat, Mike threw aside his coat,
and, taking his powder-horn between his teeth, leaped,
rifle in hand, into the Ohio, and commenced swimming
for the opposite shore.

Some bold spirits determined that Mike should not
so easily escape, and jumping into the only skiff at command,
pulled swiftly after him. Mike watched their
movements until they came within a hundred yards of
him, then turning in the water, he supported himself by
his feet alone, and raised his deadly rifle to his eye.
Its muzzle, if it spoke hostilely, was as certain to send
a messenger of death through one or more of his pursuers,

as if it were lightning, and they knew it; they
dropped their oars, and silently returned to the shore.
Mike waved his hand towards the little village of Louisville,
and again pursued his way.

The time consumed by the firing of Mike's rifle, the
pursuit, and the abandonment of it, required less time,
than we have taken to give the details; and in that time,
to the astonishment of the gaping crowd around Joe,
they saw him rising with a bewildered air; a moment
more - he recovered his senses and stood up - at his
feet lay his scalp-lock!

The ball had cut it clear from his head; the cord
around the root, in which were placed feathers and other
ornaments, still held it together; the concussion had
merely stunned its owner; farther - he had escaped all
bodily harm! A cry of exultation rose at the last evidence
of the skill of Mike Fink - the exhibition of a
shot that established his claim, indisputably, to the eminence
he ever afterwards held - that of the unrivalled
marksman of all the flatboatmen of the western waters.

Proud Joe had received many insults. He looked
upon himself as a degraded, worthless being - and the
ignominy heaped upon him he never, except by reply,
resented; but this last insult was like seizing the lion
by the mane, or a Roman senator by the beard - it
roused the slumbering demon within, and made him
again thirst to resent his wrongs, with an intensity of
emotion that can only be felt by an Indian. His eye

glared upon the jeering crowd like a fiend; his chest
swelled and heaved until it seemed that he must suffocate.

No one noticed this emotion. All were intent upon
the exploit that had so singularly deprived Joe of his
war-lock; and, smothering his wrath, he retreated to
his associates with a consuming fire at his vitals. He
was a different being from what he had been an hour before;
and with that desperate resolution which a
man stakes his all, he swore, by the Great Spirit of his ,
forefathers, that he would be revenged.

An hour after the disappearance of Joe, both he and
Mike Fink were forgotten. The flatboat, which the
latter had deserted, was got under way, and dashing
through the rapids in the river opposite Louisville,
wended on its course. As is customary when night sets
in, the boat was securely fastened in some little bend or
bay in the shore, where it remained until early morn.

Long before the sun had fairly risen, the boat was
again pushed into the stream, and it passed through a
valley presenting the greatest possible beauty and
freshness of landscape that the mind can conceive.

It was spring, and a thousand tints of green developed
themselves in the half-formed foliage and bursting
buds. The beautiful mallard skimmed across the water,
ignorant of the danger of the white man's approach;
the splendid spoon-bill decked the shallow places near
the shore, while myriads of singing birds filled the air
with their unwritten songs.

In the far reaches down the river, there occasionally
might be seen a bear stepping along the ground as if
dainty of its feet; and, snuffing the intruder on his wild
home, he would retreat into the woods.

To enliven all this, and give the picture the look
of humanity, there was also seen, struggling with the
floating mists, a column of blue smoke, which came from
a fire built on a projecting point of land, around which
the current swept rapidly, hurrying past every thing
that floated on the river. The eye of the boatmen saw
the advantage which the situation of the place rendered
to those on shore, to annoy and attack; and as wandering
Indians, even in those days, did not hesitate to rob, there
was much speculation as to what reception the boat
would receive from the builders of the fire.

The rifles were all loaded, to be prepared for any
kind of reception, and the loss of Mike Fink was lamented,
as the prospect of a fight presented itself, where
he could use with effect his terrible rifle. The boat in
the mean time swept round the point; but instead of an
enemy, there lay, in a profound sleep, Mike Fink, with
his feet toasting at the fire, his pillow was a huge bear
that had been shot on the day previous, while, scattered
in profusion around him, were several deer and wild
turkeys.

Mike had not been idle. After selecting a place
most eligible for noticing the passing boat, he had spent
his time in hunting, - and was surrounded by trophies

of his prowess. The scene that he presented was worthy
of the time and the man, and would have thrown Landseer
into a delirium of joy, could he have witnessed it.
The boat, owing to the swiftness of the current, passed
Mike's resting-place, although it was pulled strongly to
the shore. As Mike's companions came opposite to
him, they raised a shout, half exultation at meeting
him, and half to alarm him with the idea that Joe's
friends were upon him. Mike, at the sound, sprang to
his feet, rifle in hand, and as he looked around, he
raised it to his eyes, and by the time that he discovered
the boat, he was ready to fire.

"Down with your shooting-iron, you wild critter,"
shorted one of the boatmen.

Mike dropped the piece, and gave a loud halloo, which
echoed among the solitudes like a piece of artillery.
The meeting between Mike and his fellows was characteristic
They joked, and jibed him with their rough
wit, and he parried it off with a most creditable ingenuity.
Mike soon learned the extent of his rifle-shot -
but he seemed perfectly indifferent to the fact that
Proud Joe was not dead.

The only sentiment he uttered, was regret that he
did not fire at the vagabond's head, for if he hadn't hit
it, why, he said that he would have made the first bad
shot in twenty years. The dead game was carried on
board of the boat, the adventure was forgotten, and
every thing resumed the monotony of floating in a flatboat
down the Ohio.

A month or more elapsed, and Mike had progressed
several hundred miles down the Mississippi; his journey
had been remarkably free from incident; morning, noon,
and night, presented the same banks, the same muddy
water, and he sighed to see some broken land, some high
hills, and he railed and swore, that he should have been
such a fool as to desert his favorite Ohio for a river that
produced nothing but alligators; and was never, at best,
half finished.

Occasionally, the plentifulness of game put him in
spirits, but it did not last long; he wanted more lasting
excitement, and declared himself as perfectly miserable
and helpless, as a wild-cat without teeth or claws.

In the vicinity of Natchez rise a few abrupt hills,
which tower above the surrounding lowlands of the Mississippi
like monuments; they are not high, but from
their loneliness and rarity, they create sensations of
pleasure and awe.

Under the shadow of one of these bluffs, Mike and
his associates made the customary preparations for passing the
night. Mike's enthusiasm knew no bounds at
the sight of land again; he said it was as pleasant as
"cold water to a fresh wound;" and, as his spirits rose,
he went on making the region round about, according to
his notions, an agreeable residence.

"The Choctaws live in these diggins," said Mike,
"and a cursed time they must have of it. Now if I
lived in these parts I'd declare war on 'em just to have

something to keep me from growing dull; without some
such business I'd be as musty as an old swamp moccason
snake. I would build a cabin on that ar hill yonder, and
could, from its location, with my rifle, repulse a whole
tribe, if they dar'd to come after me.

"What a beautiful time I'd have of it! I never was
particular about what's called a fair fight; I just ask
half a chance, and the odds against me - and if I then
don't keep clear of snags and sawyers, let me spring
a leak and go to the bottom. It's natur that the big fish
should eat the little ones. I've seen trout swallow a
perch, and a cat would come along and swallow the
trout, and perhaps, on the Mississippi, the alligators use
up the cat, and so on to the end of the row.

"Well, I will walk tall into varmint and Indian; it's
a way I've got, and it comes as natural as grinning to a
hyena. I'm a regular tornado - tough as a hickory -
and long-winded as a nor'-wester. I can strike a blow
like a falling tree - and every lick makes a gap in the
crowd that lets in an acre of sunshine. Whew, boys!"
shouted Mike, twirling his rifle like a walking-stick
around his head, at the ideas suggested in his mind.
"Whew, boys! if the Choctaw divils in them ar woods
thar would give us a brush, just as I feel now, I'd call
them gentlemen. I must fight something, or I'll catch
the dry rot - burnt brandy won't save me."

Such were some of the expressions which Mike gave
utterance to, and in which his companions heartily

joined; but they never presumed to be quite equal to
Mike, - for his bodily prowess, as well as his rifle, were
like acknowledged to be unsurpassed. These displays of
animal spirits generally ended in boxing and wrestling-
matches, in which falls were received, and blows struck
without being noticed, that would have destroyed common
men.

Occasionally, angry words and blows were exchanged,
but, like the summer storm, the cloud that emitted the.
lightning also purified the air; and when the commotion
ceased, the combatants immediately made friends, and
became more attached to each other than before the
cause that interrupted the good feelings occurred.
Such wore the conversation and amusements of the
evening when the boat was moored under the bluffs we
have alluded to.

As night wore on, one by one, the hardy boatmen
fell asleep, some in its confined interior, and others, protected
by a light covering in the open air.

The moon arose in beautiful majesty; her silver
light, behind the highlands, gave them a power and
theatrical effect as it ascended; and as its silver rays
grew perpendicular, they kissed gently the summit of
the hills, and poured down their full light upon the
boat, with almost noonday brilliancy. The silence with
which the beautiful changes of darkness and light were
produced, made it mysterious. It seemed as if some
creative power was at work, bringing form and life out
of darkness.

But in the midst of the witchery of this quiet scene,
there sounded forth the terrible rifle, and the more
terrible war-whoop of the Indian. One of the boatmen,
asleep on deck, gave a stifled groan, turned upon
his face, and with a quivering motion, ceased to live.

Not so with his companions - they in an instant, as
men accustomed to danger and sudden attacks, sprang
ready-armed to their feet; but before they could discover
their foes, seven sleek and horribly painted savages,
leaped from the hill into the boat. The firing of
the rifle was useless, and each man singled out a foe, and
met him with the drawn knife.

The struggle was quick and fearful; and deadly
blows were given, amid screams and imprecations that
rent the air. Yet the voice of Mike Fink could be
heard in encouraging shouts above the clamor.

"Give it to them, boys!" he cried, "cut their hearts
out! choke the dogs! Here's h-ll a-fire and the
river rising!" Then clenching with the most powerful of the
assailants, he rolled with him upon the deck of the boat.
Powerful as Mike was, the Indian seemed nearly a
match for him. The two twisted and writhed like serpents, -
now one seeming to have the advantage, and
then the other.

In all this confusion there might occasionally be
seen glancing in the moonlight the blade of a knife; but
at whom the thrusts were made, or who wielded it, could
not be discovered.

The general fight lasted less time than we have taken
to describe it. The white men gained the advantage;
two of the Indians lay dead upon the boat, and the living,
escaping from their antagonists, leaped ashore, and
before the rifle could be brought to bear, they were out
of its reach.

While Mike was yet struggling with his adversary,
one of his companions cut the boat loose from the shore,
and, with powerful exertion, managed to get its bows so
far into the current, that it swung round and floated;
but before this was accomplished, and before any one
interfered with Mike, he was on his feet, covered with
blood, and blowing like a porpoise: by the time that he
could get his breath, he commenced talking.

"Ain't been so busy in a long time," said he, turning
over his victim with his foot; "that fellow fou't
beautiful; if he's a specimen of the Choctaws that live
in these parts, they are screamers; the infernal sarpents!
the d----d possums!"

Talking in this way, he with others, took a general
survey of the killed and wounded. Mike himself was
a good deal cut up with the Indian's knife; but he called
his wounds - blackberry scratches. One of. Mike's associates
was severely hurt; the rest escaped comparatively
harmless. The sacrifice was made at the first fire; for
beside the dead Indians, there lay one of the boat's
crew, cold and dead, his body perforated with four different
balls. That he was the chief object of attack

seemed evident, yet no one of his associates knew of his
ever having had a single fight with the Indians.

The soul of Mike was affected, and, taking the hand
of his deceased comrade between his own, he raised his
bloody knife towards the bright moon, and swore that
he would desolate "the nation" of the Indians who
made war upon them that night; and turning to his stiffened
victim, which still retained the expression of implacable
hatred and defiance, he gave it a smile of grim
satisfaction, and then joined in the general conversation
which the occurrences of the night would naturally suggest.

The master of the "broad horn" was a business
man, and had often been down the Mississippi. This
was the first attack he had received, or knew to have
been made from the shores inhabited by the Choctaws,
except by the white man; and he suggested the keeping
the dead Indians until daylight, that they might have an
opportunity to examine their dress and features, and see
with certainty, who were to blame for the occurrences of
the night.

The dead boatman was removed with care to a respectful
distance; and the living, except the person at
the sweep of the boat, were soon buried in profound
slumber.

Not until after the rude breakfast was partaken of, and
the funeral rites of the dead boatman were solemnly
performed, did Mike and his companions disturb the
corses of the red men.

Mike went about his business with alacrity. He
stripped the bloody blanket from the Indian he had
killed, as it enveloped something requiring no respect.
He examined carefully the moccasons on the Indian's
feet, pronouncing them at one time Chickasas another
time, Shawnese. He stared at the livid face, but
could not recognize the style of paint.

That the Indians were not strictly national in their
adornments, was certain, for they were examined by
practiced eyes, that could have told the nation of the
dead, if such had been the case, as readily as a sailor
distinguishes a ship by its flag. Mike was evidently
puzzled; and as he was about giving up his task as
hopeless, the dead body he was examining was turned
upon its side. Mike's eyes distended, as some of his
companions observed, "like a choked cat's," and became
riveted.

He drew himself up in a half serious, and half comic
expression, and pointing at the back of the dead Indian's
head, there was exhibited a dead warrior in his
paint, destitute of his scalp-lock - the small stump which
was only left, being stiffened with red paint. Those who
could read Indian symbols learned a volume of
deadly resolve in what they saw. The body of Proud
Joe, was stiff and cold before them.

The last and best shot of Mike Fink had cost a brave
man his life. The boatman so lately interred was evidently
taken in the moonlight by Proud Joe and his

party for Mike Fink, and they had risked their lives,
one and all, that he might with certainty be sacrificed.

Nearly a thousand miles of swamp had been threaded,
large and swift running rivers had been crossed,
hostile tribes passed through by Joe and his friends,
that they might revenge the fearful insult of destroying,
without the life, the sacred scalp-lock.

ALLIGATOR KILLING.

IN the dark recesses of the loneliest swamps - in those
dismal abodes where production and decay run riot -
where the serpent crawls from his den among the tangled
ferns and luxuriant grass, and hisses forth, unmolested,
his propensities to destroy-where the toad and
lizard spend the livelong day in their melancholy chirpings -
where the stagnant pool festers and ferments, and
bubbles up its foul miasma-where the fungi seem to
grow beneath your gaze-where the unclean birds retire
after their repast, and sit and stare with dull eyes in
vacancy for hours and days together; - there originates
the alligator; there, if happy in his history, he lives
and dies.

But, alas! the pioneer of the forest invades his home
- the axe lets in the sunshine upon his hiding-places : - and
he frequently finds himself, like the Indian, surrounded
by the encroachments of civilization, a mere

intruder, in his original domain - and under such circumstances
only, does he become an object of rough
sport, the incidents of which deserve a passing notice.

The extreme southern portions of the United States
are exceedingly favorable to the growth of the alligator:
in the swamps that stretch over a vast extent of country,
inaccessible almost to man, they increase in numbers
and size, live undisputed monarchs of their abodes,
exhibiting but little more intelligence, and exerting but
little more volition than decayed trunks of trees for
which they are not unfrequently mistaken.

In these swampy regions, however, are found high
ridges of land inviting cultivation. The log cabin takes
the place of the rank vegetation - the evidences of thrift
appear - and as the running streams display themselves,
and are cleared for navigation, that old settler, the alligator,
becomes exposed, and falls a victim to the rapacity
of man.

Thus hunted - like creatures of higher organization,
he grows more intelligent, from the dangers of his situation;
his instincts become more subtle, and he wars
in turn upon his only enemy; soon acquires a civilized taste
for pork and poultry, and acquires also a very uncivilized
one for dogs.

An alligator, in the truly savage state, is a very
happy reptile: encased in an armor as impenetrable
as that of Ajax, he moves about, unharmed by surrounding
circumstances.

The fangs of the rattlesnake grate over his scales
as they would over a file; the constrictor finds nothing
about him to crush; the poisonous moccason bites at
him in vain; and the greatest pest of all, the mosquito,
which fills the air of his abode with a million stings, that
burn the flesh of other living things like sparks of fire,
buzz out their fury upon his carcass in vain.

To say that he enjoys not these advantages - that
he crawls not forth as a proud knight in his armor -
that he treads not upon the land as a master - and
moves in the water the same - would be doing injustice
to his actions, and his habits, and the philosophical example
of independence which he sets to the trembling
victims daily sacrificed to his wants.

The character of an alligator's face is far from being
a flattering letter of recommendation. The mouth is
enormously large, and extends from the extreme tip of
the nose backwards until it passes the ears; indeed,
about one third of the whole animal is mouth, which,
being ornamented with superabundant rows of white
teeth, gives the same hope of getting out of it, sound in
body and mind, if once in, as does the hopper of a bark-
mill. Its body is short and round, not unlike that of a
horse; its tail is very long, and fattened at the end like
an oar. It has the most dexterous use of this appendage,
which propels it along swiftly in the water, and on
land answers the purpose of a weapon of defence.

often finds himself surrounded by these singular creatures,
and if he be unaccustomed to their presence and
habits, they cause great alarm. Scattered about in
every direction, yet hidden by the darkness, he hears
their huge jaws open and shut with a force that makes
a noise, when numbers are congregated, like echoing
thunder.

Again, in the glare of the camp fire will sometimes
be seen the huge alligator crawling within the lighted
circle, attracted by the smell of food-perchance you
have squatted upon a nest of eggs, encased with great
judgment in the centre of some high ground you yourself
have chosen to pass the night upon.

Many there are who go unconcernedly to sleep with
such intruders in their immediate vicinity; but a rifle
ball, effectively fired, will most certainly leave you unmolested,
while the alligator, in its agonies of death, no
doubt takes comfort in the thought, that the sun will
hatch out its eggs, and that there will grow up a numerous
brood of young, as hideous and destructive as
itself.

The alligator is a luxurious animal, fond of all the
comforts of life, which are, according to its habits, plentifully
scattered around it. We have watched them, enjoying
their evening nap in the shades of tangled vine,
and in the hollow trunk of the cypress, or floating like a
log on the top of some sluggish pool.

watching, like a dainty gourmand, the fattest frogs and
longest snakes; but they are in the height of their glory,
stretched out upon the sand-bar in the meridian sun,
when the summer heats pour down and radiate back
from the parched sand, as tangibly as they would from
red-hot iron. In such places will they bask, and blow
off, with a loud noise, the inflated air and water which
expands within them, occasionally rolling about their
swinish eyes with a slowness of mutton, which, while it
expresses the most perfect satisfaction, is in no way calculated
to agitate their nerves, or discompose them, by
too suddenly taking the impression of outward objects.

While thus disposed, and after the first nap is taken,
they amuse themselves with opening their huge jaws to
their widest extent, upon the inside of which, instinctively
settle, thousands of mosquitoes and other noxious
insects which infest the abode of the alligator. When
the inside of the mouth is thus covered, the reptile brings
his jaws together with inconceivable velocity, gives a
gulp or two, and again sets his formidable trap for this
small game.

Some years since, a gentleman in the southern part
of Louisiana, on "opening a plantation," found, after
most of the forest trees had been cleared off, that in the
centre of his land was a boggy piece of low soil, nearly
twenty acres in extent. This place was singularly infested
with alligators. Among the first victims that fell a prey
to their rapacity, were a number of hogs and fine poultry;

next followed, nearly all of a pack of fine deer hounds.
It may be easily imagined that the last outrage was not
passed over with indifference. The leisure time of every
day was devoted to their extermination, until the cold
of winter rendered them torpid, and buried them up in
the earth.

The following summer, as is naturally the case, the
swamp, from the intense heat, contracted in its dimensions;
a number of artificial ditches drained off the
water, and left the alligators little else to live in than mud,
which was about the consistency of good mortar: still
the alligators clung with singular tenacity to their native
homesteads, as if perfectly conscious that the coming
fall would bring them rain. While thus exposed,
a general attack was planned and carried into execution,
and nearly every alligator was destroyed. It was a fearful
and disgusting sight to see them rolling about in the
thick sediment, striking their immense jaws together in
the agony of death.

Dreadful to relate, the stench of these decaying bodies in
the hot sun, soon produced an unthought-of evil.
Teams of oxen were used in vain to haul them away;
the progress of corruption under the influence of a tropical
climate made the attempt fruitless.

On the very edge of the swamp, with nothing exposed
but the head, lay one huge monster, evidently sixteen
or eighteen feet long; he had been wounded in the
melée, and made incapable of moving, and the heat had

actually baked the earth around his body as firmly as
if he was imbedded in cement. It was a cruel and singular
exhibition to see so much power and destructiveness
so helpless.

We amused ourselves in throwing various things
into his great cavernous mouth, which he would grind
up between his teeth. Seizing a large oak rail, we attempted
to run it down his throat, but it was impossible;
for he held it for a moment as firmly as if it had
been the bow of a ship, then with his jaws crushed and
ground it to fine splinters.

The old fellow, however, had his revenge; the dead
alligators were found more destructive than the living
ones, and the plantation for a season had to be abandoned.

In shooting the alligator, the bullet must hit just in
front of the fore legs, where the skin is most vulnerable;
it seldom penetrates in other parts of the body.

Certainty of aim, therefore, tells in alligator shooting, as
it does in every thing else connected with
sporting.

Generally, the alligator; when wounded, retreats to
some obscure place; but if wounded in a bayou, where
the banks are steep, and not affording any hiding-places,
he makes considerable amusement in his convolutions in
the water, and in his efforts to avoid the pain of his
smarting wounds.

disappears, and you are for a few moments unable to
learn the extent of injury you have inflicted.

An excellent shot who sells the load with almost
unerring certainty through the eye, made one at a huge
alligator, and, as usual, he disappeared, but almost instantly
rose again, spouting water from his nose, not
unlike a whale. A second ball, shot in his tail, sent
him down again, but he instantly rose and spouted:
this singular conduct prompted a bit of provocation, in
the way of a plentiful sprinkling of bits of wood, rattled
against his hide. The alligator lashed himself into a
fury; the blood started from his mouth; he beat the
water with his tail until he covered himself with spray,
but never sunk without instantly rising again.

In the course of the day since died and floated ashore;
and, on examination, it was found that the little valve
with which nature has provided the reptile, to close over
its nostrils when under water, had been cut off by the
first shot, and he was thus compelled to stay on the top
of the water to keep from being drowned.

We have heard of many since who have tried thus to
wound them, and although they have been hit in the
nose, yet they have been so crippled as to sink and die.

The alligator, when inhabiting places near plantations,
is particularly destructive on pigs and dogs, and
if you wish to shoot them, you can never fail to draw
them on the surface of the water, if you will make a dog
yell, or a pig squeal; and that too, in places where you

Herodotus mentions the catching of crocodiles in the
Nile by baiting a hook with flesh, and then attracting
the reptile towards it by making a hog squeal.

The ancient Egyptian manner of killing the crocodile
is different from that of the present day, as powder
and ball have changed the manner of destruction; but
the fondness for pigs in the crocodile and alligator,
for more than two thousand years, remains the same.

BUFFALO HUNTING.

THE buffalo is decidedly one of the noblest victims that
is sacrificed to the ardor of the sportsman. There is a
massiveness about his form, and a magnificence associated
with his home, that give him a peculiar interest.

No part of North America was originally unoccupied
by the buffalo. The places where now are cities and
towns, are remembered as their haunts; but they have
kept with melancholy strides before the "march of civilization,"
and now find a home, daily more exposed and
invaded, only on that division of our continent west of
the Mississippi.

But in the immense wilds that give birth to the
waters of the Missouri - on the vast prairies that
stretch out like inland seas between the "great lakes"
and the Pacific, and extend towards the tropics
until they touch the foot of the Cordilleras, the buffalo roams
still wild and free.

more wanton of place than the savage himself, possessed
of invincible courage and unlimited resources, and feeling
adventure a part of life itself, has already penetrated
the remotest fastnesses, and wandered over the most extended
plains. Where the live lightning leaps from
rock to rock, opening yawning caverns to the dilating
eye, or spends its fury upon the desert, making it a
sheet of fire, there have been his footsteps; and there
has the buffalo smarted beneath his prowess, and kissed
the earth.

The child of fortune from the "old world," the favorite
of courts, has abandoned his home and affectations,
and sought, among these western wilds, the enjoyment
of nature in her own loveliness. The American hunter
frolics over them as a boy enjoying his Saturday sport.
The Indian - like his fathers, ever restless - scours the
mountain and the plain; and men of whatever condition
here meet equal, as sportsmen; and their great feats of
honor and of arms, are at the sacrifice of the buffalo.

In their appearance, the buffalos present a singular
mixture of the ferocious and comical. At a first glance
they excite mirth; they appear to be the sleek-blooded
kine, so familiar to the farmyard, but muffled about the
shoulders in a coarse shawl, and wearing a mask and
beard, as if in some outlandish disguise.

Their motions, too, are novel. They dash off, tail
up, shaking their great woolly heads, and planting their
feet under them, with a swinging gait and grotesque precision,

that suggests the notion that they are a jolly set
of dare-devils, fond of fun and extravagances, and disposed
to have their jokes at the expense of all dignity
of carriage, and the good opinion of the grave portion of
the world.

But, upon nearer examination, you quail before the
deep destructive instinct expressed in the eye; the shaggy
mane distends, and shows the working of muscles fairly
radiant with power; the fore foot dashes into and furrows
the hard turf; the tail waves in angry curves; the
eyeballs fill with blood, and with bellowing noise that
echoes like the thunder, the white foam covers the
shaggy jaws. Then the huge form before you grows
into a mountain, then is exhibited an animal sublimity,
a world of appetite without thought, and force without
reason.

Standing on one of the immense prairies of the
"south-west," you look out upon what seems to be the
green waving swell of the sea, suddenly congealed - and
it requires but little fancy to imagine, when the stormcloud
sweeps over it, and the rain dashes in torrents,
and the fierce winds bear down upon it, that the magic
that holds it immovable, may be broken, and leave you
helpless on the billowy wave.

On such an expanse, sublime from its immensity,
roams the buffalo, in numbers commensurate with the
extent, and not unfrequently covering the landscape,
until their diminishing forms mingle in the opposite

horizons, like mocking spectres. Such is the arena of
sport, and such in quantity, is the game.

To the wild Indian, the buffalo hunt awakens the
soul as absorbingly as does the defying yell on the warpath.
With inflated nostril and distended eye, he
dashes after his victim, revelling in the fruition of all
the best hopes of his existence, and growing in the conceit
of his favor with the "Great Spirit."

To the rude, white hunter, less imaginative than the
savage; the buffalo hunt is the high consummation of his
propensity and power to destroy. It gratifies his ambition,
and feasts his appetite; his work is tangible;
he feels - hears - tastes - and sees it; it is the very unloosing
of all the rough passions of our nature, with the
conscience entirely at rest.

To the "sportsman," who is matured in the constrains
of cities, and in the artificial modes of enlightened society,
and who retains within his bosom the leaven
of our coarser nature, the buffalo hunt stirs up the latent
fires repressed by a whole life; they break out with
ardor, and he enters into the chase with an abandonment,
which, while it gratifies every animal sense possessed by
the savage and hunter, opens a thousand other avenues
of high enjoyment, known only to the cultivated and refined
mind.

Among the Indians there are but few methods of
hunting the buffalo; yet there are tribes who display
more skill than others, and seem to bring more intellect

to bear in the sport. The Comanches in the south, and
the Sioux in the north, are, from their numbers, warlike
character, and wealth, by the aborigines, considered as
the true buffalo hunters.

The Comanches inhabit one of the loveliest countries
in the world for a winter home - but when the heats of
summer drive them northward, they travel over the
loveliest herbage, variegated by a thousand perfumed
flowers, that yield fragrance under every crush of the
foot. The wide savannas, that are washed by the
Trinity and Brasos rivers, are every where variegated
with clumps of live-oak trees, among which you involuntarily
look for the mansion of some feudal lord.

Here are realized almost the wildest dreams of the
future to the red men; and here the Comanches, strong
in numbers, and rich in the spontaneous productions of
their native land, walk proud masters, and exhibit savage
life in some of the illusive charms we throw around
it while bringing a refined imagination to view such life
in the distance.

Thousands of this tribe of Indians will sometimes be
engaged at one time in a buffalo hunt. In their wanderings
about the prairies, they leave trails worn like a
long-travelled road. Following the "scouts," until the
vicinity of the animal is proclaimed, and then selecting
a halting-place, favorable both for fuel and water, the
ceremonies preparatory to a grand hunt take place.

prayers of the priests. A solemn feeling pervades every
thoughtful member of the tribe. The death-defying
warrior who curls his scalp-lock derisively when he
thinks of his enemies, now bows in submission to the
invisible presence that bestows upon the red man the
great game he is about to destroy, and it is not until
the fastings, prayers, and self-sacrifices are finished that
the excitement of the chase commences.

The morning sun greets the hunter divested of all
unnecessary clothing, his arrows numbered - his harness
in order - a plume floats from his crown - his long hair
streams down his back - his well-trained horse, as wild
as himself, anticipates the sport, and paws with impatience
the ground.

Far, far in the horizon are moving about, in black
masses, the game; and with an exulting whoop, a party
start off with the wind, dash across the prairie, and are
soon out of sight.

The buffalo is a wary animal; unwieldy as he appears,
his motions are quick, and, at the approach of a
human being, he instinctively takes the alarm, and flies.

An hour or two may elapse, when the distant masses
of buffalo begin to move. There is evident alarm spreading
through the ranks. Suddenly they fly!

Then it is that thousands of fleet and impatient
horsemen, like messengers of the wind, dash off and
meet the herds. The party first sent out are pressing
them in the rear; confusion seizes upon the alarmed

animals, and they scatter in every direction over the
plain. Now the hunters select their victims, and the
blood is up. On speeds the Indian and his horse. The
long mane mingles with the light garments of the rider,
and both seem instigated by the same instinct and spirit.
On plunges the unwieldy object of pursuit, shaking
his shaggy head, as if in despair of his safety. The
speed of the horse soon overtakes the buffalo.

The rider, dropping his rein, plucks an arrow from
his quiver, presses his knees to the horse's sides, draws
his bow, and with unerring aim, drives the delicate shaft
into the vitals of the huge animal, who rushes on a few
yards, curls his tail upwards, falters, falls on his face,
and dies. An exulting shout announces the success,
and the warrior starts off after another; and if he has
performed his task well, every bow that has twanged,
marks the ownership of a huge carcass upon the sea of
the prairie, as sacredly as the waiffe of the whaleman
his victim on the sea itself.

Thus, when the day's sport is over, every arrow is
returned to its owner. If two have been used to kill
the same animal, or any are wanting, having been carried
away in mere flesh wounds; the want of skill is upbraided,
and the unfortunate hunter shrinks from the
sarcasms and observation of the successful, with shame.

Following the hunter are the women, the laborers of
the tribe. To them is allotted the task of tearing off

the skin, selecting the choice pieces of flesh, and preserving
what is not immediately consumed.

Then follows the great feast. The Indian gluts himself
with marrow and fatness, his eyes, lately so bright
with the fire of sport, are now glazed with bestiality,
and he spends days and nights in wasteful extravagance,
trusting to the abundance of nature to supply the wants
of the future.

Such are the general characteristics of the buffalo
hunt; and the view applies with equal truth to all the
different tribes who pursue, as a distinct and powerful
people - this noble game.

An Indian armed for the buffalo hunt, and his horse,
form two of the most romantic and picturesque of beings.
The loose garment that he wears is beautifully
arranged about his person, disclosing the muscles of the
shoulder and chest. Across his back is slung his quiver
of arrows, made from the skin of some wild animal; his
long bow, slightly arched by the sinewy string, is used
gracefully as a rest for his extended arm.

The horse, with a fiery eye - a mane that waves over
his front like drapery, and falls in rakish masses across
his wide forehead - a sweeping tail ornamented with the
brilliant plumage of tropical birds; champs on his rude
bit, and arches his neck with impatience, as the scent
of the game reaches his senses. Frequently will these
graceful Apollos pass before you, bounding gracefully

along, and more than rivalling the beauty, of the equestrians
portrayed upon the Elgin marbles.

Then there may be seen dashing off with incredible
swiftness, a living representation of the centaur; - and
as one of these wild horses and wilder men, viewed from
below, stand in broad relief against the clear sky, you
see an equestrian statue that art has never equalled.

The exultation of such a warrior, in the excitement
of a buffalo hunt, rings in silvery tones across the plain,
as if in his lungs was the music of a "well-chosen
pack;" the huge victims of pursuit, as they hear it, impel
onwards with redoubled speed, - they feel that a
hurricane of death is in the cry.

Take a hunting-party of fifty "warriors," starting on
a buffalo hunt. Imagine a splendid fall morning in the
southern part of the buffalo "grounds."

The sun rises over the prairie, like a huge illuminated
ball; it struggles on through the mists, growing
gradually brighter in its ascent, breaking its way
into the clear atmosphere in long-reaching rays, dispelling
the mists in wreathing columns, and starting up currents
of air to move them sportively about; slowly they
ascend and are lost in the ether above.

You discover before you, and under you, a rich and
beautifully variegated carpet, enamelled by a thousand
flowers, glistening with the pearly drops of dew, as the
horizontal rays of the sun reach them.

some choice garden had been stripped of its inclosures:
shrubbery waves the pendant blossom, and wastes a
world of sweetness on the desert air. Among these
flowery coverts browse the graceful deer and antelope.

Far before you are the long dark lines of the buffalo.
In the centre of the group feed the cows and calves.
Upon the outside are the sturdy bulls: some with their
mouths to the ground, are making it shake with their
rough roar; others sportively tear up the turf with their
horns; others not less playful, rush upon each other's
horns with a force that sends them reeling on their
sides.

Animal enjoyment seems rife, and as they turn their
nostrils upwards and snuff in the balmy air and greet the
warm sun, they little dream that around them are circling
the wild Indian, wilder - more savage - and more
wary, than themselves.

Fancy these Indians prompted by all the habits and
feelings of the hunter and warrior, mingling with the sport
the desire to distinguish themselves, as on a field of
honor, little less only in importance than the war-path.
With characters of high repute to sustain, or injured
reputations to build up - of victory for the ear of love
- of jealousy - of base passions - and a thirst of blood,
and you will have some idea of the promptings of the
hearts of those about to engage in the chase.

The time arrives. The parties already out, are driving
the herd towards the starting-place of the warriors.

They have sent up their war-cry in one united whoop,
which has startled the feeding monsters, as if the lightning
had fallen among them. With a bellowing response
the buffalo shake their heads, and simultaneously
start off.

The fearful whoop meets them at every point. Confusion
seizes upon the herd. The sport has begun.

In every direction you see the unequal chase; the
Indians seem multiplied into hundreds; the plain becomes
dotted over with the dying animals, and the whoop
rings in continuous shouts upon the air, as if the fiends
themselves were loose.

Now you see a single warrior: before him is rushing
a buffalo, which shows from his immense size, that he
is one of the masters of the herd; his pursuer is a
veteran hunter, known far and near for his prowess.

Yonder go some twenty buffalos of every size, pursued
by three or four tyros, who yet know not the art of
separating their victim from the herd.

Yonder goes a bull, twice shot at, yet only wounded
in the flesh - some one will have to gather wood with
the women for his want of skill.

There goes an old chief: his leggins are trimmed
with the hair of twenty scalps, taken from the heads of
the very Indians on whose grounds he was hunting buffalo;
he is a great warrior; he sings, that his bow unbent
is a great tree, which he alone can bend. See the
naked arm, and the rigid muscles, as he draws the arrow

to the very head: the bull vomits blood and falls: beyond
him on the grass is the arrow; it passes through,
where a rifle ball would have stopped and flattened ere
it had made half the journey.

Here are two buffalo bulls side by side; they make
the earth tremble by their measured tread; Their sides
are reeking with sweat. Already have they been singled
out. Approaching them are two horsemen; upon
the head of one glistens the silvery hair of age; the
small leggins also betray the old man: the other is just
entering the prime of life; every thing about him is
sound, full, and sleek. The old man compresses his
mouth into a mere line; the eye is open and steady as a
basilisk; the skin inanimate. The eyes of the young
man dance with excitement, the blood flows quickly
through the dark skin; and gives a feverish look to his
lip and cheek. What a tale is told in these differences
of look! how one seems reaching into the future, and
the other going back to the past!

He of the flushed cheek touches his quiver, the bow
is bent, the arrow speeds its way and penetrates its victim.
The old man - he too takes an arrow, slowly he
places it across his bow, then bending it as if to make
its ends meet, he leans forward - sends the arrow home
- the bull falls! while the one first wounded pursues his
way. The old man gives a taunting shout as a token
of his success.

and alarmed lest his aged rival should complete the work he
so bunglingly began, unguardedly presses too
near the bull, who, smarting with his wound, turns upon
his heels, and, with one mad plunge, tears out the bowels
of the steed, and rolls him and rider on the turf.
He next rushes at the rider.

The Indian, wary as the panther, springs aside, and
the bull falls headlong on the ground. Ere the bull recovers
himself, the bow is again bent, the flint-headed
arrow strikes the hard rib, splits it asunder, and enters
the heart.

The old warrior has looked on with glazed eye and
expressionless face, and the young man feels that he has
added no laurels to his brow, for an arrow has been
spent in vain and his steed killed under him.

There goes a "brave" with a bow by his side, and
his right hand unoccupied. He presses his horse against
the very sides of the animal which he is pursuing. Now
he leans forward until he seems hidden between the buffalo
and his horse. He rises; a gory arrow is in his
hand; he has plucked it from a "flesh wound" at full
speed, and while in luck, has with better aim brought
his victim to the earth.

The sun is now fairly in its zenith: the buffalos that
have escaped are hurrying away, with a speed that will
soon carry them miles beyond the hunter's pursuit.

The Indians are coming in from the field. The
horses breathe hard and are covered with foam. The

faces of the Indians are still lit up with excitement, that
will soon pass away, and leave them cold and expressionless.
The successful hunters spare not the gibe and
joke at the expense of the unfortunate. Slowly they
wend their way back to "the encampment;" their work
is done.

The squaws, who, like vultures, follow on in the rear,
eagerly begin their disgusting work. The maiden is
not among them; slavery commences only with married
life; but the old, the wrinkled, the viragoes and vixens,
tear off the skins, jerk the meat, gather together the
marrow bones, and the humps, the tongues, and the
paunch; and before the sun has fairly set, they are in
the camp with the rewards of the day's hunt.

The plain, so beautiful in the morning, is scattered
over with carcasses already offensive with decay; the
grass is torn up, the flowers destroyed; and the wolf and
buzzard and the carrion crow are disputing for the
loathsome meal, while their already gorged appetites
seem bursting with repletion.

As might be supposed, the members of a party
of adventurers once accustomed to the luxuries of
refined life, and who had recently for weeks slept in the
open air, congratulated themselves when they discovered
upon the distant horizon the signs that mark the habitation
of a "squatter." A thousand recollections of the
comforts of civilized life pressed upon us before we
reached the abode.

of delicacies which we should enjoy, but a near inspection
at once dispelled our illusions.

On the confines of the buffalo hunting-grounds, had
settled a family, consisting of a strange mixture of enterprise
and idleness, of ragged-looking men and homely
women. They seemed to have all the bad habits of the
Indians, with none of their redeeming qualities. They
were willing to live without labor, and subsist upon the precarious bounties of nature.

Located in the fine climate of Northern Texas, the
whole year was to them little less than a continued
spring, and the abundance of game with which they
were surrounded afforded, what seemed to them, all the
comforts of life. The men never exerted themselves
except when hunger prompted, or a spent magazine
made the acquisition of "peltries" necessary to barter
for powder and ball.

A more lazy, contemptible set of creatures never
existed, and we would long since have forgotten them, had not our introduction to them associated itself with
our first buffalo steak.

A large rudely-constructed shed, boarded up on the
northern side, was the abode. Upon close examination
it appeared that this "shed" was the common dwelling-
place of the "family," which consisted not only of the
human beings, but also of horses, cows, goats, and ill-
bred poultry.

grass struggled for a sickly growth. As you entered it,
you found yourself growing deeper and deeper in a
fine dust, that had, in the course of time, been worked
out of the soil. Some coarse blankets were suspended
through the enclosure, as retiring rooms for the women.
On the ground were strewn buffalo skins, from which
the animal inhabitants alone kept aloof.

We entered without seeing a human being. After
some delay, however, a little nondescript, with a white
sunburnt head, thrust aside the blankets, and hallooed
out, "They ain't injuns." The mother then showed
herself. She was as far removed from feminine as possible,
and appeared as unmoved at our presence as the
post that sustained the roof of her house.

We asked for lodging and food; she nodded a cold
assent and disappeared. Not disposed to be fastidious,
we endeavored to make ourselves as comfortable as possible,
and wait for the development of coming events.

In the course of an hour a woman younger than the
first made her appearance, and on hearing the detail of
our wants, she wrinkled her soiled visage into a distorted
smile, and told us that the "men" would soon be
home with "buffalo meat," and then our wants should
be supplied.

Whatever might have been our disappointment at
what we saw around us, the name of buffalo meat dispelled
it all. The great era in our frontier wanderings
was about to commence, and with smiles from our party

that for expression would have done credit to rival
belles, we lounged upon the skins upon the ground.

It is needless for us to say what were our ideas of
the "men," soon to make their appearance. Buffalo
hunters were, of course, tall, fine-looking follows - active
as cats - mounted upon wild steeds - armed with terrible
rifles, and all the paraphernalia of the hunter's art.

The Dutch angels, that figure so conspicuously on
many a gem of art in the "Lowlands," are certainly not
farther removed from the beautiful creations of Milton
than were the buffalo hunters that we saw from the
standard our imagination and reading had conjured up.

Two short, ill-formed men finally appeared, whose
bow-legs, formidable shocks of red hair, clothes of skin,
and shuffling gaits, were the realities of our poetical
conceptions.

Whatever might have been the charms of their faces,
our admiration was absorbed in viewing their nether
garments. They were made of undressed deer-skin, the
hair worn outside. When first made, they were evidently
of the length of pantaloons, but the drying qualifies
of the sun had, in course of time, no doubt imperceptibly
to the wearers, shortened them into the dignity
of breeches. To see these worthies standing up was beyond
comparison ridiculous. They seemed to have had
immense pommels fastened to their knees and seats.

Under other circumstances, the tailor craft of the
frontier would have elicited great merriment; but a

starving stomach destroys jokes. Courtesies suitable
were exchanged, and the preliminaries for a hearty
meal agreed upon, the basis of which was to be, buffalo
steaks.

A real buffalo steak! eaten in the very grounds
which the animal inhabits! What romance! what a diploma of a sportsman's enterprise!

Whatever might have been my disappointment in
the hunters, I knew that meat was meat, and that the
immutable laws of nature would not fail, though my
ideas of the romantic in men were entirely disappointed.
A promise that our wants should soon be supplied,
brought us to that unpleasant time, in every-day life,
which prefaces an expected and wished-for meal.

Seated, like barbarians, upon the floor, myself and
companions enjoyed the pleasing mental operation of
calculating how little the frontier family we were visiting
were worth, for any moral quality; and the physical
exercise of keeping off, as much as possible, thousands
of fleas, and other noxious insects, that infested the dust
in which we sat.

While thus disposed of, the "hunters" were busy
in various ways about the premises, and received from
us the elegant names of "Bags" and "Breeches," from
some fancied or real difference in their inexpressibles.
"Breeches," who was evidently the business man, came
near where we were sitting, and threw down upon the
ground, what appeared, at a superficial glance, to be an

enormous pair of saddle-bags. He then asked his companion-
in-arms for a knife, to cut for the strangers some
buffalo steaks.

Now if the nondescript before me had as coolly proposed
to cut steaks from an ill-natured cur that was wistfully
eyeing the saddle-bags, no more surprise could
have been exhibited by my companions than was, when
they heard the suggestion.

The knife was brought, and "Breeches" made an
essay at cutting up the saddle-bags, which gave him,
dressed as he was in skins, the appearance of a wild robber
just about to search the effects of some murdered
traveller. The work progressed bravely, and, to our
surprise, soon were exhibited crude slices of meat.
What we saw were the fleshy parts of a buffalo's hams,
ingeniously connected together by the skin that passed
over the back of the animal, and so dissected from the
huge frame as to enable it easily to be carried on a
horse, and thus brought "into camp."

As the sounds that accompany the frying of meat
saluted our ears, we moved into the open air, to avoid
the certain knowledge that we were about to complete
the eating of that peck of dirt, said to be necessary before
we die. Before the door were the two horses belonging
to our hosts; just as they returned from the
hulls, and upon one still hung huge pieces of meat, thus
simply, and frontier-like, held together for transportation.

Our first buffalo steak disappointed us. The romance
of months - and of years - was sadly broken in
upon. The squalid wretchedness of those who administered
to our wants, made rebellious even our hungry
stomachs; and we spent our first night of real disappointment
on the great prairies, under circumstances
which we thought, before our sad experience, would
have afforded us all the substantial food for body and
mind that we could have desired.

SCENES IN BUFFALO HUNTING.

THE morning following the adventure with the steak,
found our little party rifles in hand, and bent upon a
buffalo hunt. The animals, it would seem, for the especial
benefit of "Breeches" and "Bags," had come
"lower down" than usual, and we were among the buffalo
much sooner than we expected to be.

So far, fortune favored us; and a gayer party never
set out on a frolic, than followed the deer-skin inexpressibles
on the fine December mornin', to which we have
alluded.

As we jaunted along, crushing a thousand wild
flowers under our horses' feet, the deer would bound
like visions of grace and beauty from our presence; but
we essayed not such small game. Our ideas and nostrils,
expanded by the associations around us; we grew
merry at the thought of killing bucks, turkeys, and other
helpless, little game, and laughed so loudly, at the conceit

of drawing a deadly weapon upon a thing as small
as a woodcock, that the wild, half devil, and half Indian
horses on which we were mounted, pricked up their ears
and tails, as if they expected that the next salute would
be the war-whoop and a fight.

Ahead of us we beheld the buzzards, circling in
groups, whirling down in aerial flights to the earth, as
if busy with their prey. We passed them at their gross
repast over a mountain of meat, which had, the day before,
been full of life and fire, but had fallen under the
visitation of our guides and scarecrows; and provided
the very steaks that had met with so little affection
from our appetites. Soon we discovered signs of immediate
vicinity of the buffalo, and on a little examination from
the top of a "swell of land," we saw them feeding off
towards the horizon, like vast herds of cattle quietly
grazing within the inclosure of the farm-yard.

As distant as they were, our hearts throbbed violently
as we contemplated the sanguinary warfare we were
about to engage in, and the waste of life that would
ensue.

Still, we were impelled on by an irresistible
and overpowering instinct to begin the hunt.

"Breeches" and "Bags" carried over their shoulders
poles about six feet long; but as they were destitute of
any visible spear, we looked upon them as inoffensive
weapons, and concluded that they had come out just to
act as guides. In fact, we could not imagine that such

For ourselves, we were armed with the terrible rifle;
and so satisfied were we of its prowess, that we thought
the very appearance of its muzzle more deadly than the
demonstrated use of all other weapons beside.

Keeping to the windward of the buffalo, we skirted
round until we got them between us and the shed wherein
we passed the night.

Then the signal was given, and in a pell-mell manner
we charged on, every man for himself. We approached
within a quarter of a mile before the herd took the
alarm.

Then, smelling us on the air, they turned their noses
towards the zenith, gave a sort of rough snort, and broke
simultaneously off at a full gallop. As soon as this
noise was heard by our horses, they increased their
speed, and entered into the sport as ardently as their
riders.

The rough beasts rode by "Bags" and "Breeches"
did wonders, and seemed really to fly, while their riders
poised themselves gallantly, carrying their long poles in
front of them with a grace, from the excitement of the
moment, that would have honored a Cossack bearing his
spear.

The buffalo, with their tails high in the air, ran close
together, rattling their horns singularly loud; while the

horses, used to the chase, endeavored to separate a
single object for especial pursuit.

This once accomplished, it was easy to range along-
side; and in this situation the members of our party
severally found themselves; and drawing deadly aim, as
they supposed, the crack of the sharp rifle was heard
over the prairies, and yet nothing was brought to the
ground. Contrary to all this, a noble bull lay helpless in
the very track I took, the fruit of "Breeches' " murderous
skill; and from the energetic manner with which he
pressed on, we became satisfied that there was a magic
in those sticks we had not dreamed of.

Our curiosity excited, we ran across the diameter
of a circle he was forming, and came by his side. Soon
he overtook his object of pursuit, and thrusting forward
his pole, we saw glittering, for the first time, on its end
a short blade; a successful thrust severed the hamstring,
and a mountain of flesh and life fell helpless on the
prairie. The thing was done so suddenly, that some
moments elapsed before we could overcome our astonishment.
My horse approached the animal, and thrusting
forward his head and ears, snorted in his face, and then
commenced quietly cropping the grass.

It would be impossible for me to describe my emotions
as I, dismounting, examined the gigantic and
wounded bull before me. There be lay - an animal, that
from his singular expression of face and general appearance,
joined with his immense size, looked like some animated

Rising on his fore legs, he shook his mane and
beard in defiance, and flashed from his eyes an unconquerable
determination terrible to behold.

Gazing upwards, we beheld, fearfully caricatured,
the shaggy trappings of the lion, and the wild fierceness
of a perfect savage, the whole rising above us in huge
unwieldy proportions. He made no demonstration of
attack, his usual expression of defiance had changed into
that of seeming regret and heartsick pain; his small
bright eye roamed over the beautiful prairie, and
watched the retreating herds of his fellows, as would
an old patriarch when about to bid adieu to the world;
and as the dying creature gazed on, the tear struggled
in his eye, rolled over the rough sunburnt hair, dashed
like a bright jewel from his knotted beard, and fell to
the ground.

This exhibition of suffering nature cooled the warm
blood of the hunt within me; the instinct of destruction
was, for the time, overpowered by that of better feelings,
and could we have restored to health the wounded animal,
it would have given us a thrill of real pleasure to
have seen him again free, and bounding over the plain.

Instead of this, we took from our belt a pistol, called
upon mercy to sanction our deed, and sent the cold lead
through the thoughtful eye into the brain: the body
sank upon its knees, in ready acknowledgment of the

power of man; the heavy head plunged awkwardly to
the ground; a tremulous motion passed through the
frame - and the wild monarch was dead.

The momentary seriousness of my own feelings, occasioned
by the incidents above related, was broken in
upon by a loud exulting whoop, prolonged into a quavering
sound, such as will sometimes follow a loud blast of
a trumpet at the mouth of an expert player.

It was a joyous whoop, and vibrated through our
hearts - we looked up, and saw just before us a young
Indian warrior, mounted upon a splendid charger, and
rushing across the plain, evidently in pursuit of the retreating
buffalo.

As he swept by, he threw himself forward in his saddle,
and placed his right hand over his eyes, as if to
shade them from the sun, making a picture of the most
graceful and eager interest.

His horse carried his head low down, running like a
rabbit, while the long flowing mane waved in the wind like
silk. Horse and rider were almost equally undressed;
both wiry; and every muscle, as it came into action,
gave evidence of youth and power. Over the horse's
head, and inwrought in the hair of the tail, streamed
plumes plucked from the gay flamingo. Every thing
was life - moving, dashing life - gay as the sunshine that
glistens on the rippling wave where the falcon wets his
wing.

and, mounting our horses, we dashed after the red man
Our direction soon brought us in sight of the retreating
buffalo; and, with the Indian and myself, dashed on a
third person, the valiant "Breeches."

I followed as a spectator, and keeping close to both,
was enabled to watch two beings so widely different in
form, looks, and action, while bent on the same exciting
pursuit.

Fortunately, two buffalos of large size, cut off from
the main body, were being driven towards us by some
one of our party: a distant report of a rifle, and the sudden
stopping of one of the animals, told the tale.

The remaining bull, alarmed by the report of the
rifle, rushed madly on, with enemies in front and rear.
Discovering its new danger, it wheeled almost on its
heels and ran for life. Whatever might have been our
vivid imaginings of the excitement of a buffalo chase,
we now felt the fruition beyond our most sanguine
hopes.

Before us ran the buffalo, then followed the Indian,
and beside him "Breeches," so closely that you would
have thought a dark Apollo on a mettled charger, had
by some necromancy cast the shadow of a cornfield scarecrow.
We soon gained on the buffalo, rapidly as he
moved his feet under him. "Breeches" poised his rude
instrument to make the fearful cut at the hamstrings,
when the Indian, plucking an arrow from his quiver,
bent his bow, and pointing it at "Breeches' " side,

- , let it fly. The stick held by "Breeches"
leaped from his grasp as if it had been struck by a club;
another instant, and again the bow was bent; guiding
his horse with his feet, the Indian came alongside of the
buffalo, and drove the arrow to the feather into his
side.

A chuckling guttural laugh followed this brilliant
exploit, and as the animal, after a few desperate leaps,
fell forward and vomited blood, again was repeated the
same joyous whoop that so roused our stagnant blood at
the beginning of the chase.

The instant that "Breeches" dropped his stick, his
horse, probably from habit, stopped; and the one on
which I rode followed the example. The Indian dismounted,
and stood beside the buffalo the instant he fell.
The shaggy and rough appearance of the dead animal -
the healthy-looking and ungroomed horse with his roving
eye and long mane - and the Indian himself, contemplating
his work like some bronze statue of antique art
- formed a group, the simplicity and beautiful wildness
of which would have struck the eye of the most insensible.

"Breeches," alike insensible to the charms of
the tailor's art, and to the picturesque - handed the Indian
his first fired arrow, and then stooping down, with a
gentle pressure, thrust the head of the one in the buffalo
through the opposite side from which it entered,
and handed it to its owner, with disgust marked upon

his face, that displayed no great pleasure at the Indian's
appearance and company.

Among the Indian tribes there are certain styles of
doing things, which are as essential to command the attention
and win the favor of a real hunter, as there are
peculiar manners and modes commended, and only acknowledged,
by sportsmen.

A poor despicable tribe, bearing the name of Ta-wa-ki-na,
inhabiting the plains of Texas, kill the buffalo by
hamstringing them, and are, therefore, despised
and driven out from among the "Indian men."

A young Comanche chief, fond of adventure, and
friendly with "Breeches," had gone out of his way to
join in our sport; and having shown to the white man
his skill, and for "Breeches" his contempt for his imitations
of a despised tribe, he passed on in pursuit of his
own business, either of war or of pleasure.

The experience of our first buffalo hunt satisfied us
that the rifle was not the most effective instrument in
destroying the animal. The time consumed in loading
the rifle is sufficient for an Indian to shoot several arrows,
while the arrow more quickly kills than the
bullet.

As the little party to which I was attached had
more notions of fun than any particular method of
hunting, a day was set apart for a buffalo hunt, "Ta-wa-ki-na
fashion," and for this purpose rifles were laid
aside, and poles about seven feet long, with razor blades

fastened on them a few inches from the end, so as to
form a fork, were taken in their place. Arriving in the
vicinity of the buffalo, those who were disposed entered
into the sport pell-mell.

Like a faithful squire I kept close at the heels of
"Breeches," who soon brought a fine young heifer bellowing
to the ground. As the animal uttered sounds
of pain, one or two fierce-looking bulls that gallantly
followed in the rear, exposing themselves to attack to
preserve the weaker members of the herd, stopped
short for an instant, and eyed us with most unpleasant
curiosity. This roused the knight of the deer-skin
breeches; and, brandishing his stick over his head with
a remarkable degree of dexterity, he dashed off as if determined
to slay both at once.

My two companions who started out as Ta-wa-ki-nas,
had done but little execution, not understanding their
work, or alarmed at so near an approach of the animals
they wounded, without bringing them to the earth. As
"Breeches" dashed on after the bulls, he severally
crossed the route of all who were on the chase; and as
he was unquestionably the hero of the day, all followed
in his train, determined to see hamstringing done scientifically.

It is a singular fact in the formation of the buffalo,
and the familiar cattle of the farm-yard, that, although
so much alike in general appearance, the domesticated
animal will, after being hamstrung, run long distances.

The buffalo, on the contrary, the moment that the tendon
is severed, falls to the ground entirely helpless, and
perfectly harmless to one beyond the reach of its horns.
A very short chase in company with "Breeches,"
brought us up to one of the bulls; he poised his stick,
thrust it forward, and the tendon Achilles, full of life
and full of action, was touched by the sharp blade; its
tension, as it sustained the immense bull in his upward
leaps, made it, when severed, spring back as will the
breaking string of the harp; and the helpless beast,
writhing in pain, came to the ground.

One of our party on witnessing this exhibition, gave
an exulting shout, and declared that he would bring a
buffalo down or break his neck; he soon came beside a
venerable bull, and as he made repeated thrusts, a thousand
directions were given him as to the manner of proceeding.
The race was a well contested one, and the
heels of the pursued animal were strangely accelerated
by the thrusts made at him in his rear.

A lunge was finally accomplished by the "Ta-wa-kina,"
that almost threw him from his horse; the fearful
cut brought the huge bull directly under the rider's
feet; the next instant the noble steed was impaled upon
the buffalo's horns, and the unfortunate rider lay insensible
on the ground. In the excitement, the wrong
hamstring had been cut, and, as the animal always falls
upon the wounded side, the mistake had caused the bull
to become a stumbling block in his path.

We hastened to our unfortunate companion, chafed
his temples, and brought him to his senses. Happily,
save the loss of a generous steed, no great damage was
done. The "Ta-wa-ki-na" acknowledged that hamstringing
buffalo was as contemptible, as it was thought to be
by the Comanche chief. Thus ended this novel and
barbarian hunt, which afforded incidents for many
rough jokes and amusing reflections on hamstringing
buffalos.

As a reward for these frontier sports it is but just
to say, that we feasted plentifully upon buffalo steaks,
marrow bones, humps, and tongues; yet surfeited as was
the body, the mind was not satisfied.

There was a waste of life and of food accompanying
the hunting of the animal, that, like an ever-present
spirit of evil, took away from our enjoyment that zest
which is necessary to make it a favorite sport.

WOODCOCK FIRE-HUNTING.

"'Tis murderous, but profitable." - Tom Owen.

ONE of the most beautiful and "legitimate" amusements
of gentlemen, is woodcock shooting. In the "backwoods,"
where game of every kind is plentiful, it is pursued
as often as a necessary of life, as for the gratification
afforded by the sport.

Persons living in the hotbeds of civilization, but
who yet retain enough of the old leaven of the wild man,
to love to destroy the birds of the air, and the beasts of
the field, are obliged to eke out the excitements of the
field by conventional rules, which prescribe the manner
of killing, the weapon to be used, and the kind of dog
to be employed; - and the sportsman who is most correct
in all these named particulars, is deservedly a "celebrity"
in his day and generation.

No sport is more properly guarded and understood
by amateur hunters than woodcock shooting, and no
sport is more esteemed. Therefore, it was that the announcement
that there was a section of the United

States where the game bird was hunted by torchlight,
and killed "without the benefit of clergy," created the
same sensation among the "legitimists," as is felt at Saint
Germain's, because there is "no Bourbon on the throne"
- a thrill of horror pervaded the hearts of many who
could believe such a thing possible - while the more
"strait laced" and deeply conscientious, disbelieved
entirely, and pronounced the report too incredible
for any thing but a "hoax." Yet, woodcock fire-hunting
is a fact, although most circumscribed in its geographical
limits, the reasons for which, will appear in the attempt
at a description of the sport.

Woodcock fire-hunting is almost entirely confined to
a narrow strip of country running from the mouth of the
Mississippi, up the river about three hundred miles. This
narrow strip of country is the rich and thickly settled land
that borders on the river, and which varies from one to
three miles in width; it is in fact nothing but the ridge
or high ground that separates the Mississippi from the
interminable swamps, that compose so great a portion of
the State of Louisiana.

The habits of the woodcock make it entirely a nocturnal
bird; it retires into these swamps that border its
feeding grounds during the day, and is perfectly safe
from interruption; hidden among the tangled vines,
cane-brakes, and boggy land, it consults alike its pleasure
and safety; finds convenient places for its nests, and
raises its young, with the assurance of being undisturb-

ed. As a matter of course they increase rapidly, until
these solitudes become alive with their simple murmuring
note; and when evening sets in, they fill the high
land which we have described, in numbers which can
scarcely be imagined by any one except an eye-witness.

Another cause, probably, of their being so numerous
in this section of the country may be owing to their migratory
habits, as the bird is seen as far north as the
river St. Lawrence in summer, and we presume that these
very birds return for their winter residence in Louisiana
in the very months when "fire-hunting" is practised,
which is in the latter part of December, January, and
the first part of February.

Yet, a resident in the vicinity or among the haunts
of these birds, may live a life through, and make day
hunting a business, yet be unconscious that woodcock
inhabit his path; so much is this the case, that I do
not know of the birds ever being hunted, in the common
and universal way, in the places where fire-hunting them
is practiced.

This novel sport, we presume, originated among the
descendants of the French, who originally settled on the
whole tract of country bordering on the Mississippi, as
high up as it favors this kind of sport. Here it is, that
"Beccasse" forms a common dish when in season, in
which the poor and the wealthy indulge as a luxury, too
common to be a variety, and too excellent not to be always
welcome.

Provide yourself with a short double-barrelled fowling-
piece of small bore; let your ammunition be first-rate, and
have something the: size of a small thimble wherewith
to measure out your load of mustard shot. Let
your powder be in a small flask, but keep your shot loose
with your measure, in the right side pocket of your
shooting jacket - and, astonished sportsman! leave thy
noble brace of dogs shut up in their kennels; for we
would hunt woodcock, incredible as it may seem, without
them.

In the place of the dogs we will put a stout negro,
who understands his business, burdened with what resembles
an old fashioned warming-pan, but the bottom,
instead of the top, pierced with holes; in this pan are
small splinters of pine knot, and we denominate this,
the Torch. Then put on the broad-brimmed palmetto hat,
so that it will shade your eyes, and keep them from
alarming the birds. Now, follow me down into any of
the old fields that lie between the river and the swamp,
while the ladies can stand upon spacious galleries that
surround the house, and tell by the quick report of
guns our success; the streaming light from "the torch,"
will, to them, from the distance, look like an ignis fatuus
dancing the cachuca in the old field.

It is in the middle of January, the night is a favorable
one, the weather rather warm, the thermometer says

"temperate," and the fog rolls off the cold water into
the river like steam; an old "fire-hunter" says, "this is
just the night."

Whiz - whiz - hello! What's here? Sambo strike
a light, and hoist it over your head. Now, friend, place
yourself behind the torch, on the left, both of us in the
rear to court the shade. Now, torch-bearer, lead on.
Whiz - bang - whiz, bang - two woodcock in a minute.
Bang, bang. Heavens, this is murder! Don't load too
heavy - let your charges be mere squibs, and murder
away, - the sport is fairly up.

The birds show plainly from three to ten paces all
around you, and you can generally catch them on the
ground, but as they rise slowly and perpendicularly
from the glare of the light, with a flickering motion,
you can bring them down before they start off like arrows
into the surrounding darkness. Thank the stars
they do not fly many paces before they again alight, so
that you can follow the same bird or birds until every one
is destroyed. Bang, bang - how exciting - don't the birds
look beautiful as they stream up into the light; the
alight reddish tinge of their head and breast shining for
an instant in the glare of the torch like fire.

Ha! see that stream of gold, bang - and we have a
meadow-lark, the bright yellow of its breast being more
beautiful than the dull colors of the woodcock. And I
see, friend, you have bagged a quail or two. Well,
such things occasionally happen. Two hours sport, and

we have killed between us nearly thirty birds. With
old hunters the average is always more, and a whole
night's labor, if successful, is often rewarded with a
round hundred.

Practice and experience, as a matter of course, have
much to do with success in this sport, but less than in
any other; for we have known tyros, on one or two occasions,
to do very well with clubs; while the negroes
have thrashed them down by "baskets-full" with whips
made of bundles of young cane, the birds being so thick
that some could be brought down even in this way, while
endeavoring, in their confusion, to get out of the glare
of the torch.

This fact, and the quantity of birds killed, attest to
the extraordinary numbers that inhabit this particular
section of country.

Let the birds, however, be less numerous than we
have described, and they are on some days more plentiful
than on others, and one who is a good shot, in the ordinary
way of hunting the bird, has only to overcome his
astonishment, and we will add, horror, at the mode in
which he sees his favorite game killed, to be a perfect
master of woodcock fire-hunting under all circumstances.
It is common with those who are fond of sport, and
have some sentiment about them, never to fire until the
bird rises, and then to bring down a bird with each
barrel. This requires quick shooting, as the torch only sheds

an available light in a circle of about twenty yards in
diameter. Parties are frequently made up who hunt
during a given number of hours, and the destruction of
the birds on these occasions is almost beyond belief.

These parties afford rare sport, and are often kept
up all night.

When this is the case, the sportsman not unfrequently
sleeps to so late an hour in the day that he has
only time to rise, sip a cup of strong coffee, and leisurely
dress for dinner, when it is announced as ready, and
woodcock, plentiful to wasting, are smoking on the board
before him.

Such a dinner, the dullest intellect can imagine, is a
repast both for sense and soul; - for woodcock and wit
are synonymous.

THE WATER CRAFT OF THE BACK-WOODS.

STARTING amid the volcanic precipices, eternal snows,
and arid deserts of the Rocky Mountains; the Snake
River winds its sinuous way towards the Pacific; one
time, rushing headlong through the deep gorges of the
mountains, and at another, spreading itself out in still
lakes, as it sluggishly advances through ever-varying
scenes of picturesque grandeur and of voluptuous
softness.

In all this variety, the picture only changes from the
beautiful to the sublime; while the eye of the civilized
intruder, as it speculates on the future, can see on the
Snake River, the city, the village, and the castle, in situations
more interesting and more romantic than they
have ever yet presented themselves to the world.

The solitary trapper and the wild Indian are now
the sole inhabitants of its beautiful shores; the wigwams
of the aborigine, the temporary lodge of the hunter and

the cunning beaver, rear themselves almost side by side,
and nature reposes like a virgin bride in all her beauty
and loveliness, soon to be stripped of her natural charms
to fulfil new offices with a new existence.

On an abrupt bank of this beautiful stream, overlooking
the surrounding landscape for miles - a spot of all
others to be selected for a site of beauty and defence,
might be seen a few lodges of the Wallawallah
Indians.

On the opposite shore stood a fine young warrior,
decked in all the tinsel gewgaws which his savage fancy
had suggested, to catch the love of his mistress. With
stealthy steps he opened the confused undergrowth that
lined the banks, and taking therefrom a delicate paddle,
he fruitlessly searched until the truth flashed upon him,
that some rival had stolen his canoe. Readily would he
have dashed into the bosom of the swollen river, and, as
another Leander, sought another Hero, but his dress was
not to be thus spoiled. Like a chafed lion he walked
along the shore, his bosom alternately torn by rage, love,
and vanity, when, far up the bank he saw a herd of
buffalo slaking their thirst in the running stream. Seizing
his bow and arrow, with noiseless step he stole upon
his victim, and the unerring shaft soon brought it to the
earth, struggling with the agonies of death.

It was the work of only an adept to strip off the skin
and spread it on the ground. Upon it were soon laid
the gayly wrought moccasons, leggings, and hunting

shirt the trophies of honorable warfare, and the skins
of birds of beautiful plumage. The corners of the hide
were then brought together, and tied with thongs; the
bundle was set afloat upon the stream, and its owner
dashed on the rear, guiding it to the opposite shore
with its contents unharmed.

Again decking himself, and bearing his wooing tokens
before him, he ran with the swiftness of the deer
to the lodge that contained his mistress, leaving the
simplest of all the water-craft of the back-woods to decay
upon the ground.

The helplessness of age, the appealing eyes and hands
of infancy, the gallantry of the lover, the hostile excursion
of a tribe, are natural incentives to the savage
mind to improve upon the mere bundle of inanimate
things that could be safely floated upon the water. To
enlarge this bundle, to build up its sides, would be his
study and delight, and we have accordingly next in the
list of back-woods craft, what is styled by the white man,
- the Buffalo-skin boat. This craft is particularly the
one of the prairie country, where the materials for its
construction are always to be found, and where its builders
are always expert.

A party of Indians find themselves upon the banks
of some swift and deep river - there is no timber larger
than a common walking stick to be seen for miles around;
the Indians are loaded with plunder - for they have
made a successful incursion into the territory of some

neighboring tribe, and cannot trust their effects in the
water; or they are perchance migrating to a favorite
hunting ground, and have with them all their domestic
utensils, their squaws and children. A boat is positively
necessary, and it must be made of the materials
at hand. A fire is kindled, and by it are laid a number
of long slender poles, formed by trimming off the limbs
of the saplings growing on the margin of the stream.
While this is going on, some of the braves start in pursuit
of buffalo; two of the stoutest bulls met with, are
killed and stripped of their skins. These skins are then
sewed together, the poles having been well heated, the
longest is selected and bent into the proper form for a
keel; the ribs are then formed and lashed transversely
to it, making what would appear to be the skeleton of a
large animal. This skeleton is then placed upon the
hairy side of the buffalo skin, when it is drawn around
the frame and secured by holes cut in the skin, and
hitched on to the ribs; a little pounded slippery-elm
bark is used to caulk the seams, and small pieces of
wood cut with a thread-like screw, are inserted in the
arrow or bullet holes of the hide.

Thus, in the course of two or three hours, a handsome
and durable boat is completed, capable of carrying
eight or ten men with comfort and safety.

Passing from the prairie we come to the thick forest,
and there we find the most perfect of the water-craft of
the back-woods - the varieties of the canoe. The in-

habitant of the woods never dreams of a boat made of
skins; he looks to the timber for a conveyance. Skilled
in the knowledge of plants, he knows the exact time
when the bark of the tree will most readily unwarp from
its native trunk; and from this simple material he forms
the most beautiful craft that sits upon the water.

The rival clubs that sport their yachts upon the
Thames, or ply them upon the harbor of Mannahatta,
like things of life - formed as their boats are by the high
scientific knowledge and perfect manual skill of the two
great naval nations in the world, are thrown in the
shade by the beautiful and simple bark canoe, made by
the rude hatchet and knife of the red man.

The American forest is filled with trees, whose bark
can be appropriated to the making of canoes; the pecan,
and all the hickories, with the birch, grow there in infinite
profusion.

A tree of one of these species that presents a trunk
clear of limbs for fifteen or twenty feet, is first selected;
the artisan has nothing but a rude hunting knife and
tomahawk for the instruments of his craft; with the latter,
he girdles the bark near the root of the tree - this
done, he ascends to the proper height, and there makes
another girdle; then taking his knife and cutting
through the bark downwards, he separates it entirely
from the trunk.

Ascending the tree again, he inserts his knife-blade
under the bark, and turning it up, soon forces it with

his hand until he can use more powerful levers; once
well started, he will worm his body between the bark
and the trunk, and thus tear it off, throwing it upon the
ground, like an immense scroll. The ross, or outside of
the bark, is scraped off until it is quite smooth, the
scroll is then opened, and the braces inserted in order to
give the proper width to the gunners of the canoe.
Strong cords are then made from the bark of the linn
tree or hickory, the open ends of the bark scroll are
pressed together and fastened between clamps, the clamps
secured by the cord. If the canoe be intended only for
a temporary use, the clamps are left on.

But if to usefulness there can be added the highest
beauty, then the rude clamps are displaced by the sewing
together of the ends of the bark. A preparation
is then made of deer's tallow and pounded charcoal,
which is used instead of pitch to fill up the meshes of
the seams, and the boat is complete.

This simple process produces the most beautiful
model of a boat that can be imagined art can neither
embellish the form, or improve upon the simple mechanism
of the back-woods. Every line in it is graceful, and
its sharp bows indeed seem almost designed to cleave the
air as well as water, so perfectly does it embrace every
scientific requisite for overcoming the obstructions of
the element in which it is destined to move. In these
apparently frail machines, the red man, aided but by a
single paddle, will thread the quiet brook and deep running

river, speed over the glassy lake like a swan, and
shoot through the foaming rapids as sportively as the
trout, and when the storm rages, and throws the waves
heavenward, and the lurid clouds seem filled with molten
fire, you will see the Indian, like a spirit of the
storm, at one time standing out in bold relief against
the lightning-riven sky, the next moment - disappearing
in the watery gulf, rivalling the gull in the gracefulness
of his movements, and rejoicing, like the petrel, in the
confusion of the elements.

The articles used in savage life, like all the works
of nature, are simple, and yet perfectly adapted to the
purpose for which they are designed.

The most ingenious and laborious workman, aided
by the most perfect taste, cannot possibly form a vessel
so general in its use, so excellent in its ends, as the
calabash.

The Indian finds it suspended in profusion in every
glade of his forest home, spontaneous in its growth, and
more effectually protected from destruction from animals,
through a bitter taste, than by any artificial barrier
whatever. So with all the rest of his appropriations
from nature's hands. His mind scarcely ever makes an
effort, and consequently seldom improves.

The simple buffalo skin that forms a protection for
the trifles of an Indian lover, when he would bear them
safely across the swollen stream, compared with the
gorgeous barge that conveyed Egypt's queen down the

Nile to meet Antony, seems immeasurably inferior in
skill and contrivance. Yet the galley of Cleopatra, with
all its gay trappings, and its silken sails glittering in
the sun, was as far inferior to a "ship of the line," as
the Indian's rude bundle to the barge of Cleopatra.
Imagination may go back to some early period, when
the naked Phoenician sported upon a floating log; may
mark his progress, as the inviting waters of the Mediterranean
prompted him to more adventurous journeyings,
and in time see him astonishing his little world, by fearlessly
navigating about the bays, and coasting along the
whole length of his native home.

How many ages after this, was it, that the invading
fleets of classic Greece, proud fleets, indeed, in which
the gods themselves were interested, were pulled ashore,
as now the fisherman secures his little skiff? Admire
the proud battle ship, riding upon the waves, forming a
safe home for thousands, now touching the clouds with
its sky-reaching masts, and descending safely into the
deep. With what power and majesty does it dash the
intruding wave from its prow, and rush on in the very
teeth of the winds!

Admire it as the wonder of human skill, then go
back through the long cycle of years, and see how many
centuries have elapsed in thus perfecting it - then examine
the most elaborate craft of our savage life, and
the antiquity of their youth will be impressed upon
you.

PLACE DE LA CROIX.

A ROMANCE OF THE WEST.

There is much of beautiful romance in the whole history
of the early settlements of Florida. De Soto and
Ponce de Leon have thrown around the records of their
searches for gold and the waters of life, a kind of dreamy
character which renders them more like traditions of a
spiritual than of a real world. They and their followers
were men of stern military discipline, who had won honors
in their conquests over the Moors; and they came
hither not as emigrants, seeking an asylum from oppression,
but as proud nobles, anxious to add to their numerous
laurels, by conquests in a new world. The
startling discoveries, - the fruits, the gold, and the natives
that appeared with Columbus at the court of Isabella -
gave to fancy an impetus, and to enthusiasm a
power, which called forth the pomp of the "Infallible

Church" to mingle her sacred symbols with those of
arms; and they went joined together through the wilds
of America.

Among the beautiful and striking customs of those
days, was the erection of the Cross at the mouths of
rivers, and prominent points of land, that presented themselves
to the discoverers.

The saved symbol thus reared in solitude, seemed
to shadow forth the future, when the dense forests would
be filled with its followers, instead of the wild savage;
and it cheered the lonely pilgrim in his dangerous journeys,
bringing to his mind all the cherished associations
of this life, and directing his thoughts to another world.
In the putting up of these crosses, as they bore the arms
of the sovereign whose subjects erected them, and as
they were indicative of civil jurisdiction and empire, the
most prominent and majestic locations were selected,
where they could be seen for miles around, towering
above every other object, speaking the advances of the
European, and giving title to the lands over which they
cast their shadows.

Three hundred years ago the sign of the cross was
first raised on the banks of the Mississippi.

From one of the few bluffs or high points of land
that border that swift-running river, De Soto, guided by
the aborigines of the country, was the first Europeans
that looked upon its turbid waters, soon to be his grave.
On this high bluff, taking advantage of a lofty cottonwood

tree, he caused its majestic trunk to be shorn of
its limbs; and on this tall shaft placed the beam which
formed the cross.

This completed, the emblazoned banners of Spain
and Arragon were unfurled to the breeze, and, amid
the strains of martial music and the firing of cannon, the
steel-clad DeSoto, assisted by the priests in his train,
raised the host to heaven, and declared the reign of
Christianity commenced in the valley of the Mississippi.

The erection of this touching symbol in the great
temple of nature was full of poetry. The forests, like
the stars, declare the wonderful works of the Creator.
In the silent grandeur of our primeval woods, in their
avenues of columns, their canopies of leaves, their festoons
of vines, the cross touched the heart, and spoke
more fully its office than ever it will glistening among
the human greatness of a Milan cathedral, or the solemn
grandeur of a St. Peter's.

Two hundred years after Ponce de Leon had mingled
his dust with the sands of the peninsula of Florida,
and DeSoto reposed beneath the current of the Mississippi,
the same spirit of religious and military enthusiasm
pervaded the settlements made by both French and
Spanish in this "land of flowers."

Among the adventurers of that day were many who
mingled the romantic ambition of the crusaders with
the ascetic spirit of the monk, and who looked upon
themselves as ambassadors of religion to new nations in

a new world. Of such was Rousseau. It requires little
imagination to understand the disappointment that
such a man would meet with in the forest, and as an
intruder of the untractable red man. The exalted notions
of Rousseau ended in despondence, when away from
the pomp and influence of his church. Having been
nurtured in the "Eternal City," he had not the zeal,
and lacked the principle, to become an humble teacher
to humbler recipients of knowledge.

Disregarding his priestly office, he finally mingled
in the dissipations of society, and in the year 1736,
started off as a military companion to D'Arteguette in
his expedition among the Chickasas.

The death of D'Arteguette and his bravest troops,
and the dispersion of his Indian allies, left Rousseau a
wanderer, surrounded by implacable enemies, he being
one of the few who escaped the fate of battle.

Unaccustomed to forest life, and more than a thousand
miles from the Canadas, he became a prey of imaginary
and real dangers. Unprovided with arms, his food was
of roots or herbs. At night the wild beasts howled
round his cold couch, and every stump in the daytime
seemed to him to conceal an Indian.

Now it was, that Rousseau reviewed the incidents of
his past life with sorrowing he discovered, when it was
too late, that he had lost his peace of mind, and his
hopes of future existence, for a momentary enjoyment.
Wasting with watching and hunger, he prayed to the

Virgin to save him, that he might, by a long life of penance,
obliterate his sins. On the twelfth day of his
wanderings he sank upon the earth to die and, casting
his eyes upward in prayer, he saw, far in the distance,
towering above every other object, the cross!

It seemed a miracle, and inspired with strength his
trembling limbs; he pressed forward that he might
breathe his last at its foot. As he reached it, a smile
of triumph lighted up his wayworn features, and he fell
insensible to the earth.

Never, perhaps, was this emblem more beautifully
decorated or more touchingly displayed than was the
one that towered over Rousseau. From indications,
some fifteen years might have elapsed since the European
pilgrim had erected it. One of the largest forest
trees had been chosen that stood upon the surrounding
bluffs; the tall trunk tapered upward with the proportion
of a Corinthian column, which, with the piece forming
the cross, was covered with ten thousand of those
evergreen vines that spread such a charm over the
southern landscape. It seemed as if nature had paid
tribute to the sacred symbol, and festooned it with a
perfection and beauty worthy of her abundance. The
honeysuckle and the ivy, the scarlet creeper and fragrant
jasmine, the foliage enamelled with flowers shed
upon the repentant, and now insensible Rousseau, a
shower of fragrance.

worn footpath. You could trace it, from where it lost
itself in the deep forests, to where it wound around the
steep-washed bank, and touched the water's edge.
At this point were to be seen the prints of footsteps;
and traces of small fires were also visible, one of which,
still sent up puffs of smoke.

Here it was that the Choctaw maidens and old women
performed their rude labor of washing.

In the morning and evening sun, a long line of the
forest children might be seen, with clay jars and skins
filled with water, carrying them upon their heads, and
stringing up, single file, the steep bank, and losing themselves
in the woods; - with their half clad and erect forms,
making a most picturesque display, not unlike
the processions figured in the hieroglyphical paintings
of Egypt.

Soon after Rousseau fell at the cross, there might
have been seen emerging from the woods, and following
the path we have described, a delicately-formed Indian
girl. In her band was a long reed and a basket, and
she came with blithe steps towards the river. As she
passed the cross, the form of Rousseau met her eyes.
Stopping and examining him, with almost overpowering
curiosity, she retreated with precipitation, but almost
instantly returned. She approached nearer, until the
wan and insensible face met her view. Strange as was
his appearance and color, the chord of humanity was
touched, the woman forgot both fear and curiosity, in

her anxiety to allay visible suffering. A moment had
hardly elapsed before water was thrown in his face and
held to his lips.

The refreshing beverage brought him to consciousness.
He stared wildly about, and discovered the Indian
form bending over him; he again sank insensible
to the earth. Like a young doe the girl bounded away,
and disappeared.

A half hour might have elapsed, when there issued
out of the forest a long train of Indians. At their
head was the young maiden, surrounded by armed warriors
in the rear followed women and children. They
approached Rousseau, whose recovery was but momentary
and who was now unconscious of what was passing
around him. The crowd examined him first with caution,
gradually, with familiarity; their whispers became
animated conversation, and, finally, blended in one noisy
confusion.

There were, among those present, many who had
heard of the white man and of his powers, but none had
ever seen one before. One Indian, more bold than the
rest, stripped the remnant of a cloak from Rousseau's
shoulder; another, emboldened by this act, caught
rudely hold of his coat, and as he pulled it aside, there
fell from his breast a small gilt crucifix, held by a silken
cord. Its brilliancy excited the cupidity of all, and
many were the eager hands that pressed forward to obtain
it. An old chief gained the prize, and fortunately.

for Rousseau, his prowess and influence left him in undisputed
possession. As he examined the little trinket,
the Indian girl we have spoken of, the only female near
Rousseau, crossed her delicate fingers, and pointed upward.
The old chief instantly beheld the similarity between the
large and small symbol of Christianity; and
extending it aloft, with all the dignity of a cardinal, the
crowd shouted as they saw the resemblance, and a change
came over them all.

They associated at once the erection of the large
cross with Rousseau; and as their shout had again
called forth exhibitions of life from his insensible form,
they threw his cloak over him, suspended the cross to
his neck, brought, in a moment, green boughs, with
which a litter was made, and bore him with all respect
toward their lodges. The excitement and exercise of
removal did much to restore him to life; a dish of maize
did more; and nothing could exceed his astonishment
on his recovery, that he should be treated with such
kindness; and as he witnessed the respect paid the cross,
and was shown by rude gestures, that he owed his life to
its influence, he sank upon his knees, overwhelmed with
its visible exhibition of power, and satisfied that his
prayer for safety had been answered by the accomplishment
of a miracle.

The Choctaws, into whose hands the unfortunate
Rousseau had fallen (although he was not aware of the
difference), were of a kinder nature than the Cherokees,
from whom he had so lately escaped.

Years before, the inhabitants of the little village,
on their return from a hunting expedition, discovered
the cross we have described; its marks then were such
as would be exhibited a few days after its erection.
Footsteps were seen about its base, which, from their
variance with the mark left by the moccasin, satisfied
the Indians that it was not erected by any of their
people. The huge limbs that had been shorn from the
trunk bore fresh marks of terrible cuts, which the stone
hatchet could not have made.

As is natural to the Indian mind, on the display of
power which they cannot explain, they appropriately,
though accidentally, associated the cross with the Great
Spirit, and looked upon it with wonder and admiration.

Beside the cross there was found an axe, left by
those who had used it. This was an object of the
greatest curiosity to its finders. They struck it into
the trees, severed huge limbs, and performed other powerful
feats with it, and yet fancied that their own rude
stone instruments failed to do the same execution, from
want of a governing spirit, equal to that which they
imagined presided over the axe, and not from difference
of material.

The cross and the axe were associated together in
the Indians' minds; and the crucifix of Rousseau connected
him with both. They treated him, therefore,
with all the attention they would bestow upon a being
who is master of a superior power.

The terrible and strange incidents that had formed
the life of Rousseau, since the defeat of his military
associate, D'Arteguette, seemed to him, as he recalled
them in his mind, to have occupied an age. His dreams
were filled with scenes of torment and death. He would
start from his sleep with the idea that an arrow was penetrating
his body, or that the bloody knife was at his
heart; these were then changed into visions of starvation,
or destruction by wild beasts. Recovering his
senses, he would find he would find himself in a comfortable lodge,
reposing on a couch of soft skins; while the simple
children of the senses, woods, relieved of their terrors, were
waiting to administer to his wants. The change from
the extreme of suffering to that of comfort, he could
hardly realize.

The cross in the wilderness, the respect they paid to
the one upon his breast, were alike inexplicable; and
Rousseau, according to the spirit of his age, felt that a
miracle had been wrought in his favor: and on his
bended knees he renewed his ecclesiastical vows, and
determined to devote his life to enlightening and christianizing
the people among whom Providence had placed
him.

The Indian girl who first discovered Rousseau, was
the only child of a powerful chief. She was still a
maiden, and the slavish labor of savage married life
had, consequently, not been imposed upon her.

Among her tribe she was universally considered
beautiful; and her hand had been vainly sought by all
the young "braves" of her tribe.

Wayward, or indifferent to please, she resolutely refused
to occupy any lodge but her father's, however eligible
and enviable the settlement might have appeared
in the eyes of her associates.

For an Indian girl she was remarkably gentle; and,
as Rousseau gradually recovered his strength, he had,
through her leisure, more frequent intercourse with her
than with any other of the tribe. There was also a feeling
in his breast that she was, in the hands of an overruling
Providence, the instrument used to preserve his
life. Whatever might have been the speculations of
the elders of the tribe, as day after day Rousseau courted
her society and listened to the sounds of her voice,
we do not know; but his attentions to her were indirectly
encouraged, and the Indian girl was almost constantly
at his side. Rousseau's plans were formed. The painful experience
he had encountered, while following the ambition
of worldly greatness, had driven him back into the seclusion
of the church, with a love only to end with his
life.

He determined to learn the dialect of the people in
whose lot his life was cast, and form them into a nation
of worthy recipients of the "Holy Church;" and the
gentle Indian girl was to him a preceptor, to teach him

her language. With this high resolve, he repeated the
sounds of her voice, imitated her gesticulations, and encouraged,
with marked preference, her society.

The few weeks passed by Rousseau among the
Choctaws, had made him one bitter, implacable enemy.
Unable to explain his office or his intentions, his preference
for Chechoula, had been marked by the keen eye
of a jealous and rejected lover.

Wah-a-ola was a young "brave," who had distinguished
himself on the hunting and war paths. Young
as he was, he had won a name. Three times he had
laid the trophies of his prowess at the feet of Chechoula,
and as often she had rejected his suit. Astonished at
his want of success, he looked upon his mistress as laboring
under the influence of some charm, for he could
find no accepted rival for her hand.

The presence of Rousseau - the marked preference
which Chechoula exhibited for his society, settled, in
his own mind, that the "pale face" was the charmer.

With this conviction, he placed himself conveniently
to meet his mistress, and once more pleaded his suit
before he exhibited the feelings of hatred which he felt
towards Rousseau. The lodge of Chechoula's father
was, from the dignity of the chief, at the head of the
Indian village, and at some little distance. The impatient
Wah-a-ola seated himself near its entrance, where,
from his concealment, he could watch whoever entered
its door. A short time only elapsed, before he saw, in

the cold moonlight, a group of Indian girls approaching
the Indian lodge, in busy conversation, and conspicuously
among them all, Chechoula.

Her companions separated from her, and as she entered
her father's lodge, a rude buffalo skin shut her
in. Soon after her disappearance, the little groups about
the Indian village gradually dispersed; the busy hum
of conversation ceased; and when profound stillness
reigned, a plaintive note of the whip-poor-will was heard;
it grew louder and louder, until it appeared as if the lone
bird was perched on the top of the lodge that contained
Chechoula. It attracted her ear, for she thrust aside
the buffalo-skin, and listened with fixed attention. The
bird screamed, and appeared to flutter, as if wounded.
Chechoula rushed toward the bushes that seemed to
conceal so much distress, when Wah-a-ola sprang up and
seized her wrist. The affrighted girl stared at her captor
for a moment, and then exclaimed,

"The snake should not sing like the birds!"

Wah-a-ola relaxed not his hold; there was a volcano
in his breast, that seemed to overwhelm him as he glared
upon Chechoula with blood-shot eyes. Struggling to
conceal his emotion, he replied to her question, by asking
"If the wild-flowers of the woods were known only
to their thorns?"

"The water-lilies grow upon smooth stones," said
Chechoula, striving violently to retreat to her father's lodge.

The love of Wah-a-ola was full of jealousy, and
the salute and reply of his mistress converted it into
hate. Dashing his hand across his brow, on which the
savage workings of his passion were plainly visible, he
asked, if "a brave" was to whine for a woman like a
bear for its cubs?

"Go!" said he, flinging Chechoula's arm from him:
"go! The mistletoe grows not upon young trees, and
the pale face shall be a rabbit in the den of the wolf!"

From the time that Rousseau was able to walk, he
had made a daily pilgrimage to the cross, and there,
upon his bended knees, greeted the morning sun. This
habit was known to all the tribe. The morning following
the scene between Wah-a-ola and Chechoula, he was
found dead at the foot of the sacred tree. A poisoned
arrow had been driven almost through his body.

Great was the consternation of the Choctaws. It
was considered a mysterious evidence of impending evil;
while not a single person could divine who was the murderer.

"The mistletoe grows not upon young trees!"
thought Chechoula; and for the first time she knew the
full meaning of the words, as she bent over the body of
Rousseau. She attended his obsequies with a sorrow
less visible, but more deep, than that of her people; although
the whole tribe had, in the short residence of the
departed, learned to respect him, and to look upon him
as a great "Medicine." His grave was dug where he

had so often prayed, and the same sod covered him that
drank his heart's blood.

According to Indian custom, all that he possessed,
as well as those articles appropriated to his use, were
buried with him in his grave. His little crucifix reposed
upon his breast, and he was remembered as one
who had mysteriously come, and as mysteriously passed
away.

A few years after the events we have detailed, a
Jesuit missionary, who understood the Choctaw language,
announced his mission to the tribe, and was by
them kindly received. His presence revived the recollections
of Rousseau, and the story of his having been among
them was told. The priest explained to them his office,
and these wild people, in a short time, erected over the
remains of Rousseau a rude chapel; his spirit was called
upon as their patron saint, and Chechoula was the first
to renounce the superstitions of her tribe, and receive
the Holy Sacrament of Baptism.

In the year 1829, a small brass cross was picked out
of the banks of the Mississippi, near Natchez at the
depth of several feet from the surface. The crucifix was
tolerable preservation, and was exposed by one of
those cavings of the soil so peculiar to the Mississippi.
The speculations which the finding of this cross called
forth, revived the almost forgotten traditions of the story
of Rousseau, and of his death and burial at the Place
De La Croix.

OPOSSUM HUNTING.

An opossum was made to represent the class of natural
lusus naturae for they are certainly the most singular,
inexplicable little animals that live. In their creation;
Dame Nature seems to have shown a willingness, if necessary,
to be ridiculous, just for the sake of introducing
a new fashion. We will not, however, go into particulars,
for we might infringe upon the details of "breeding,"
and thereby "o'erstep the modesty of nature."

One of the peculiarities of the opossum that attracts
to it general attention, is the singular pouch they have
under the belly, in which their young are carried before
their complete development, and also into which they
retreat when alarmed by the approach of danger.

This particular organ contains in its interior, ten or
twelve teats, to which the young, after what seems a
premature birth, are attached, and where they hang for
about fifty days, then drop off, and commence a more
active state of existence.

This animal evidently varies in size in different latitudes.
In Louisiana they grow quite large compared
with those inhabiting more northern climates.

The opossum ranges in length from twelve to fifteen
inches, the tail is about the same extent. The body is
covered with a rough coating of white, gray, and brown
hair, so intermixed and rough, that it makes the animal
look as if it had been wet and then drawn through a coalhole
or ash-heap. The feet, the ears, and the snout are
naked.

The organs of sense and motion in this little animal
seem to be exceedingly dull. Their eyes are prominent,
hanging like black beads out of their sockets, and appear
to be perfectly destitute of lids, with a pupil similar
to those of a cat, which shows that they are suited
to midnight depredations.

The nostrils of the opossum are evidently well developed,
and upon the smell almost exclusively, is it dependent
for its preservation. The ears look as if they
were pieces of dark or soft kid skin, rolled up and fastened
in their proper places. The mouth is exceedingly
large and unmeaning, and ornamented with innumerable
sharp teeth, yet there is very little strength in the jaws.
The paws or hands of the animal are the seat of its
most delicate sensibility, and in their construction are
developed some of the most wonderful displays of the
ingenuity of an All-wise Providence, to overcome the

The opossum makes a burrow in the ground, generally
found near habitations. In the day time it sleeps,
and prowls at night. The moon in its brilliancy seems
to dazzle it, for under the bright rays of the queen of
night it is often knocked on the head by the Negro hunter
without apparently perceiving it has an enemy near.

The habits of the opossum generally resemble those
of the "coon" and fox, though they are, as might be
supposed from our imperfect description, infinitely less
intelligent in defending themselves against the attack
of an enemy. Knock an opossum on the head or any
part of the body, with a weapon of any kind, small or
great, and if he makes any resistance at all, he will endeavor
to bite the weapon, instead of the agent using
it. The opossum is, in fact, a harmless little creature,
and seems to belong to some peace society, the members
of which have agreed to act toward the world as the
boy promised to do with the bull-dog, "If you will let
me alone, I won't trouble you."

Put the animal in a critical situation, and he will
resort to stratagem instead of force to elude his pursuers;
for if he finds escape impossible, he will feign
himself dead in advance of giving you an opportunity to
carry out your destructive intentions toward him; or
when you think you have destroyed him, he will watch

his opportunity, and unexpectedly recovering his breath,
will make his escape.

This trick of the little animal has given rise to a
proverb of much meaning among those acquainted with
his habits, entitled, "playing 'possum," and probably it
is as good an illustration of certain deceptive actions of
life as can be well imagined.

Take an opossum in good health, corner him up until
escape is impossible, then give him a gentle tap on
the body that would hardly crush a mosquito, and he
will straighten out, and be, according to all indications,
perfectly dead. In this situation you may thump him,
cut his flesh, and half skin him; not a muscle will
move; his eyes arc glazed and covered with dust, for he
has no eyelids to close over them. You may even worry
him with a dog, and satisfy yourself that he is really
defunct; then leave him quiet a moment, and he will
draw a thin film from his eyes, and, if not interfered
with, be among the missing.

An Irishman, meeting with one of these little animals
in a public road, was thrown into admiration at its
appearance, and on being asked why he did not bring,
the "thing" home with him, said he:

"On sight, I popped him with my shillelah; he died
off immediately, and I thrust the spalpeen into my coat
pocket. 'There's a dinner, ony how,' I said to myself;
and scarcely had I made the observation, than he commenced
devouring me, biting through my breeches, the

Lord preserve me! I took him out of my pocket, and
gave him another tap on the head that would have kilt
an Orangeman at Donnybrook Fair: 'Take that for a
finis, you desateful crater,' said I, slinging him upon
my back. Well murther, if he didn't have me by the
sate of honor in no time. 'Och, ye 'Merica cat, ye, I'll
bate the sivin lives out of ye!' and at him I wint
till the bones of his body cracked, and he was clean kilt.
Then catching him by the tail, for fear of accidents, if
he didn't turn round and give my thumb a pinch, I'm
no Irishman. 'Off wid ye!' I hallooed with a shout,
'for some ill-mannered ghost of the divil, with a rat's
tail: and if I throubles the likes of ye again, may I ride
backwards at my own funeral!'"

There is one other striking characteristic about the
opossum, which, we presume, Shakespeare had a prophetic
vision of, when he wrote that celebrated sentence,
"Thereby hangs a tail;" for this important appendage,
next to its "playing 'possum," is most extraordinary.
This tail is long, black, and destitute of hair, and although
it will not enable its possessor, like the kangaroo,
in the language of the showman, "to jump fifteen feet
upwards and forty downwards," still it is of great importance
in climbing trees, and supporting the animal
when watching for its prey.

By this tail the 'possum suspends itself for hours to
a swinging limb of a tree, either for amusement or for
the purpose of sleeping which last he will do while thus

"hung up," as soundly as if slipping his hold did not
depend upon his own will. This "tail hold" is so firm,
that shooting the animal will not cause him to let go,
even if you blow his head off; on the contrary, he will
remain hung up, until the birds of prey and the elements
have scattered his carcass to the winds; and yet the
tail will remain an object of unconquered attachment to
its last object of circumlocuting embrace.

An old backwoods "Boanerges" of our acquaintance,
who occasionally threw down his lap-stone and
awl, and went through the country to stir up the people
to look after the "consarns of their latter end," enforced
the necessity of perseverance in good works, by
comparing a true Christian to an opossum up a tall
sapling, in a strong wind. Said he "My brethren,
that's your situation exactly; the world, the flesh, and
the devil, compose the wind that is trying to blow you
off the gospel tree. But don't let go of it; hold on as
a 'possum would in a hurricane. If the fore legs of :
your passions get loose, hold on by your hind legs of
conscientiousness; and if they let go, hold on eternally
by your tail, which is the promise that the saints shall
persevere unto the end."

As an animal of sport, the opossum is of course of
au inferior character; the Negroes, however, look upon
the creature as the most perfect of game, and are much
astonished that the fox and deer should be preferred;
and the hilarity with which they pursue the sport of

'possum hunting, far excels the enthusiasm of the most
inveterate follower after nobler beasts.

Fine moonlight nights are generally chosen on such
occasions; three or four negroes, armed with a couple
of axes, and accompanied by a cur dog, who understands
his business will sally out for 'possum hunting, and
nothing can be more joyous, than their loud laugh and
coarse joke on these midnight hunts. The dog scents
the animals, for they are numerous, and "barks up the
right tree." A torch made of light wood or pitch pine,
is soon diffusing a brilliant light, and the axe is struck
into the tree containing the game, - let it be a big tree
or a small one, it matters not; the growth of a century,
or of a few years only, yields to the "forerunner of civilization,"
and comes to the ground.

While this is going on the dog keeps his eye on the
'possum, barking all the while with the greatest animation.
In the mean time, the negroes, as they relieve
each other at the work of chopping, make night vocal
with laughter and songs, and on such occasions particularly,
will you hear "Sitting on a Rail," cavatina fashion,
from voices that would command ten thousand a
year from any opera manager on the Continent.

The tree begins to totter; the motion is new to the
'possum, and as it descends, the little animal instinctively
climbs to the highest limb. Crash, and off
he goes to the ground, and not unfrequently into the
very jaws of the dog; if this is not the case, a short

Such is opossum hunting among the negroes, a sport
in which more hard labor is got through with in a few
hours than will be performed by the same individuals
throughout the whole of the next day. Sometimes two
or three opossums are killed, - and if a negro is proud of
a yellow vest, a sky-blue stock, and red inexpressibles;
with a dead opossum in his possession, he is sublimated.

Among gentlemen, we have seen one occasionally
who amuses himself with bringing down an opossum
with a rifle, and we have met one who has given the hunt
a character, and really reduced it to a science. We
were expressing some surprise at the kind manner with
which our friend spoke of opossum hunting, and we
were disposed to laugh at his taste; we were told very
gravely that we were in the presence of a proficient in
'possum hunting, and if we desired, we should have a
specimen at sundown, and by the dignity of the hunt we
would be compelled to admit that there were a great
many ways of doing the same thing. The proposition
came from our host, and we at once consented.

The night was dark, and I noticed this, and spoke
of it; and the reply was, that such a night only, would
answer the purpose. A half hour's ride brought us into
the depths of the forest alla in the extra darkness of

its deep recesses we were piloted by a stout negro bearing
a torch. Our dogs - for there were two of them -
soon gave notice that we were in the vicinity of an opossum,
and finally, directed by their noses-for eyes were
of no use - they opened loud and strong, and satisfied us
that an opossum was over our heads.

At this moment I was completely puzzled to know
how we were to get at the animal, I must confess; we
had no axe, and a millstone intervening between the
oppossum and our eyes, could not have shut it out of
sight more effectually than did the surrounding darkness,
which seemed to be growing "thicker" every moment,
by contrast with the glaring torch.

The negro who accompanied us, without ceremony
kindled a large fire about twenty feet from the base of
the tree in which our game was lodged, and as soon as
it was well kindled and burning merrily, my companion
seated himself about forty feet from the base of the
tree, bringing the trunk of it directly between himself
and the fire. I took a seat by his side by request, and
waited patiently to see what would come next. The fire
continued to burn each moment more brightly, and the
tree that intervened between us and it became more prominent,
and its dark outline became more and more distinct,
until the most minute branch and leaf was perfectly
visible.

"Now," said mine host, "we will have the opossum.
Do you see that large knotty-looking substance

on that big limb to the right? It looks suspicious; we
will speak to it."

The sharp report of the rifle followed, and the negro
that accompanied us picked up a large piece of bark that
fell rattling to the ground. The rifle was reloaded, and
another suspicious-looking protuberance was fired at, and
another knot was shattered. Again was the rifle reloaded,
and the tree more carefully examined. Hardly had its
shrill report awakened the echoes of the forest for the
third time, before a grunt that would have done honor
to a stuck pig was heard, and the solid fat body of the
'possum fell at our feet. the negro picked it up, relit
his torch, and we proceeded homeward.

When reseated by a comfortable fire, we were asked
our opinion by our host of "a white man's 'possum
hunt;" we expressed our unqualified approbation of the
whole affair, although we thought at first that any improvement
on the negro's mode of doing the business
would be "painting the lily!"

As an article of food the opossum is considered by
many a very great luxury; the dish, it is said, tastes not
unlike roast pig. We should have liked very much to
have heard "Elia's" description of a dish of it; he
found sentiment and poetry in a pig, - where would he
have soared to over a dish of 'possum?

In cooking the "varmint," the Indians suspend it on
a stick by its tail, and in this position they let it roast
before the fire; this mode does not destroy a sort of

oiliness, which makes it to a cultivated taste coarse and
unpalatable.

The negroes, on the contrary - and, by the way, they
are all amateurs in the cooking art - when cooking for
themselves, do much better. They bury the body up with
sweet potatoes, and as the meat roasts, thus confined, the
succulent vegetables draw out all objectionable tastes,
and render the opossum "one of the greatest delicacies
in the world." At least, so say a crowd of respectable
witnesses. We profess to have no experience in
the matter, not yet having learned to sing with enthusiasm
the common negro melody of

A "HOOSIER" IN SEARCH OF JUSTICE.

ABOUT one hundred and twenty miles from New Orleans
reposes, in all rural happiness, one of the pleasantest
little towns in the south, that reflects itself in the mysterious
waters of the Mississippi.

To the extreme right of the town, looking at it from
the river, may be seen a comfortable-looking building,
surrounded by China trees; just such a place as sentimental
misses dream of when they have indistinct notions of
"settling in the world."

This little "burban bandbox," however, is not occupied
by the airs of love, nor the airs of the lute, but by
a strong limb of the law, a gnarled one too, who
knuckles down to business, and digs out of the "uncertainties
of his profession" decisions, and reasons, and
causes, and effects, nowhere to be met with, except in
the science called, par excellence, the "perfection of human
reason."

Around the interior walls of this romantic-looking
place may be found an extensive library, where all
the "statutes," from Moses' time down to the present
day, are ranged side by side; in these musty books the
owner revels day and night, digesting "digests;" and
growing the while sallow, with indigestion.

On the evening-time of a fine summer's day, the sage
lawyer might have been seen walled in with books and
manuscripts, his eye full of thought, and his bald high
forehead sparkling with the rays of the setting sun, as
if his genius was making itself visible to the senses;
page after page he searched, musty parchments were
scanned, an expression of care and anxiety indented
itself on the stern features of his face, and with a sigh
of despair he desisted from his labors, uttering aloud
his feelings that he feared his case was a hopeless one.

Then he renewed again his mental labor with tenfold
vigor, making the very silence, with which he pursued
his thoughts, ominous, as if a spirit were in his presence.

The door of the lawyer's office opened, there pressed
forward the tall, gaunt figure of a man, a perfect model
of physical power and endurance-a western flatboatman.
The lawyer heeded not his presence, and started as if
from a dream, as the harsh tones of inquiry, grated upon
his ear, of,

"Does a 'Squire live here?"

"They call me so," was the reply, as soon as he
had recovered from his astonishment.

"Well, 'Squire," continued the intruder, "I have
got a case for you, and I want jestess, if it costs the best
load of produce that ever come from In-di-an."

The man of the law asked what was the difficulty.

"It's this, 'Squire: I'm bound for Orleans, and put
in here for coffee and other little fixins; a chap with a
face whiskered up like a prairie dog, says, says he,

"'Stranger, I see you've got cocks on board of your
boat - bring one ashore, and I'll pit one against him
that'll lick his legs off in less time than you could gaff
him.' Well, 'Squire, I never take a dar. Says I,
'Stranger, I'm thar at wunce;' and in twenty minutes the
cocks were on the levee, like parfect saints.

"We chucked them together, and my bird, 'Squire,
now mind, 'Squire, my bird never struck a lick, not a
single blow, but tuck to his heels and run, and by thunders,
threw up his feed, actewelly vomited. The stake-holder
gave up the money agin me, and now I want
jestess; as sure as fogs, my bird was physicked, or he'd
stood up to his business like a wild cat."

The lawyer heard the story with patience, but flatly
refused to have any thing to do with the matter.

"Prehaps," said the boatmall, drawing out a corpulent
pocket-book, "prehaps you think I can't pay - here's
the money; help yourself - give me jestess, and draw on
my purse like an ox team."

To the astonishment of the flatboatman, the lawyer
still refused, but unlike many of his profession, gave his

would-be client, without charge, some general advice
about going on board of his boat, shoving off for New
Orleans, and, abandoning the suit altogether.

The flatboatman stared with profound astonishment,
and asked the lawyer "If he was a sure enough 'Squire."

Receiving an affirmative reply, he pressed every argument
he could use, to have him undertake his case and
get him "jestess;" but when he found that his efforts
were unavailing, he quietly seated himself for the first
time, put his hat aside, - crossed his legs, - then looking
up to the ceiling with the expression of great patience,
he requested the " 'Squire, to read to him the Louisiana
laws on cock-fighting."

The lawyer said that he did not know of a single
statute in the State upon the subject. The boatman
started up as if he had been shot, exclaiming -

"No laws in the State on cock-fighting? No, no,
Squire, you can't possum me; give us the law."

The refusal again followed; the astonishment of the
boatman increased, and throwing himself in a comico-
heroic attitude, he waved his long fingers around the
sides of the room and asked,

"What all them thar books were about?"

"All about the law."

"Well then, 'Squire, am I to understand that not
one of them thar books contain a single law on cock-
fighting?"

"And, 'Squire, am I to understand that thar ain't
no laws in Louisiana on cock-fighting?"

"You are."

"And am I to understand that you call yourself a
'Squire, and that you don't know any thing about cock-
fighting?"

"You are."

The astonishment of the boatman at this reply for a
moment was unbounded, and then suddenly ceased; the
awe with which he looked upon "the 'Squire" also
ceased, and resuming his natural awkward and familiar
carriage, he took up his hat, and walking to the door,
with a broad grin of supreme contempt in his face, he
observed, -

"That a 'Squire that did not know the laws of cock-
fighting, in his opinion, was distinctly an infernal old
chuckel-headed fool!"

MAJOR GASDEN'S STORY.

No one told a story better than old Major Gasden -
in fact he could detail very commonplace incidents so
dramatically, that he would give them a real interest.
He had met with a little insider on his first visit to
New Orleans, that was to him a source of either constant
humor or annoyance. Whichever view he took
of the adventure, gave character to his illustration of it.

The "major," on a certain occasion, formed one of
a happy party, and growing communicative under the influence
of genial society and old port, was imprudent
enough to call on several persons near and around him
for songs and sentiments - which calls being promptly
honored, - the Major very unexpectedly found himself
under the immense obligation of doing something for his
friends himself; and as he could not sing, and hated salt
water, he compromised, by relating the following personal
adventure.

We give it as nearly verbatim as possible, but must
premise, that from an occasional twinkle that we noticed
in the Major's eyes, we have never been perfectly satisfied
that he did not, to use the language of an Irish
friend of ours, "make an intentional mistake."

"There ought to be nothing about a dinner, generally
speaking," commenced the Major, "to make it an
era in one's history in any way.

"The power merely to gratify the appetite just sufficient
to sustain life, is eating in poverty; a life spent
merely in gratifying the appetite, is brutal. We like a
good dinner and we sit down to one with that complacency
of feeling that denotes a thankfulness, that may
properly be called, a silent blessing; yet we feel more
pity for a man who recollects his bad dinners, than we do
for one who distinctly remembers his good ones. In everyday
life, things commemorative often start from the table.
'Do you remember,' says Gustibus 'that so and
so happened the day we ate the fresh salmon?' 'I
remember the event,' replies Dulce, 'from that exquisite
bon-mot uttered on the occasion.'

"I remember my first dinner in New Orleans as distinctly
as I remember my first love. I trust it was impressed
upon my mind through the excitement of the
intellect, as well as through the gratification of the senses.
As I journeyed on to New Orleans for the first time,
I naturally suggested to my travelling companion, my
desire to be most pleasantly provided for while in the

city, and contrary to his usual custom he launched forth
in declamation upon the table of his host, drew
pictures of luxuries that threw my most sanguine anticipations
of good living into the shade, and caused me to
look forward with an interest to the gratification of my
palate that I had never before indulged in.

"I landed on the 'levee' of New Orleans in the middle
of the morning; although it was early spring, a glorious
sun, such as Pomona loves, was making every thing
look gay; the swollen Mississippi dashed a few waves
over the artificial barrier that confined it to its channel,
and as they crowded along in little rivulets, they sparkled
like molten silver and gold, indicative, as we thought,
of the wealth which was borne upon its waters, and
paid tribute to the city.

"I need not say where I ate my first dinner in New
Orleans. The dining hall was a long one and the diners
numerous. I made my entrance after the soup dishes
had done their office, and was, of course, a little late.

'It might have been the exercise, or excitement,
or a hastily-eaten breakfast, that made me feel in the
spirit of enjoying a good dinner, for I was unusually
disposed that way; and looked down the long tables,
crowded to excess, with great concern, for fear there
would be no room for me, until that melancholy time,
when gravies cool into water and globules of fat, and
meats are just as warm as when alive; the cruets half
filled, and the cloth awry. I trembled at the prospect

when, to my inexpressible relief, on my left, near the
door, at the top of the two long dining tables, was a
small round one, at which sat some six or eight gentlemen.
A single chair was unoccupied, and without ceremony,
I appropriated it to myself.

"I never saw a man come in late to dinner who did not
endeavor to look around on the company present, with
that sort of expression which signifies 'Who cares if I
did come in late?' I looked that way, and happened to
feel so too; and as I cast my eyes on the gentlemen at
my right and left, and before me, I paid no attention
whatever to the cold stare I met with, as if intending
to make me feel that I was intruding.

"In this excellent humor with all the world and myself,
I asked the waiter with a loud voice for soup, hot if
possible, and I found myself accommodated in the twinkling
of a ladle. I went to work lustily to lay the foundation
of what my friend in the morning had promised,
an extra splendid dinner.

"Oysters and fish, as a first course, seem to be
founded in nature, reason, and taste, - accordingly
made the reflection to the gentleman on my right - he
very formally assented to the proposition, and ate sparingly.
I pressed him with great solicitude to follow my
example, - and do justice to the viands before him. He
suggested that he was troubled with a dyspepsia. This
little conversation was received by the whole table with
what I remember now, and then for a moment, thought

was an unnecessary quantity of laughter, particularly by
a gentleman at the foot of the table, presuming I sat at
the head. This person, however, had a sparkling eye
and a rubicund nose, and I concluded that. he was easily
pleased, and thought nothing more of the matter; at
the same time feeling great sympathy for my friend on
my right, whom I set down as a very bashful man.

"The venison, all trembling about in its dish, with
its spirit lamps, and wine condiments was very beautiful
indeed, but to me not so much of a rarity as it would
have been, had I not lived in a country where deer were
plenty. Determined to call out the bashful man, I observed
to him if I had had the arrangement of the
dinner, I should have ordered roast beef, as I had understood
New Orleans was growing quite celebrated for
that dish. The bashful man smiled, the rest of the
fable were delighted, and it was agreed that it was a
most valuable suggestion.

"Thus encouraged, I went on to inform all present,
that, the sweetest venison I ever tasted was while
'travelling on the frontier;' that it was not cooked
line the steaks in the chafing dish before us, but merely
jerked off of the carcass, thrown on living coals of fire,
and then while steaming hot, devoured with the simple
addition of pepper and salt. Hereupon the gentleman
with the rubicund nose, told the bashful man that this
second suggestion of mine was invaluable, and another
unnecessarily hearty laugh followed.

"Prairie hens of a most delicate flavor followed
after the meats; they were really delicious; they came
from Illinois, somebody said, and showed the enterprise
of the landlord of the hotel - so I thought and uttered,
and my feelings in this matter were entirely appreciated
by the little group around me.

"The becasse, as they were announced, excited my
unbounded astonishment; there they were, in a large
dish, packed side by side 'like newly-married couples,'
round as globes, and looking as inviting as ice
in August.

"I took one in my plate, turned it over and over,
and discovered to my horror that the bird had probably
committed suicide by running its own bill through its
body, and as I drew it out I ejaculated,

" 'Woodcock, as I live!!' "

"My bashful friend responded, 'Exactly so.'

"I helped every body; the birds flew about under
my administration as if they were alive and mad, and
there was a general display of the most cheering good
humor at my beneficent liberality.

"In the mean time, the two long tables of the hotel
were deserted, the waiters at them were walking about
munching bits of bread and other odd ends, piling up
plates, and 'clearing off;' but our little party grew
more and more merry and happy, wine, delicious and
old, flowed freely; course after course followed, and then
came a thousand varieties of the confectioner's skill.

"Toasts and sentiments, really new, were engendered
by the old wine, songs sentimental and patriotic; bosom
friends were we all, mingling together as sweetly and
harmoniously as the waters of the vale Of Avoca.

"For my own part, I was particularly happy in my
feelings and remarks, whatever I said was received with
a roar, in fact I never met with the same number of
gentlemen so easily pleased and so congenial.

"The sun gradually sunk in the west, and the suggestion
of candles by an attendant proved a signal for
departure - one more glass around and a sentiment from
myself was to finish. Requesting all to fill to the brim,
I raised my glass on high, and thus addressed my
friends:

" 'Gentlemen - I have heard much of the fine tables
spread in New Orleans, particularly of this hotel, and
of the enterprise of its host. I have heard nothing equal
to their respective or joint merits (great applause, the
rubicon-nosed man breaking his glass in enthusiasm).
The whole of this affair is only surpassed in my experience,
or most inflated dreams, by you, gentlemen (casting
a sort of patronising look around me), by you, gentlemen, -
in your social, literary, and scientific attainments' -
(tremendous cheering).

"I concluded in a halo of glory, with 'A health to our
host.'

"This speech or sentiment - was drank to the bottom,
two gentlemen fell under the table, and four suspender

buttons rattled against the windows opposite me. Shaking
hands with all who could go through the ceremony,
I left the table, whereon had been eaten the best dinner
of my life - where I had met the cleverest party ever
assembled to my knowledge; such was my first dinner in
New Orleans.

"It was nearly one o'clock at night, when I met my
friend with whom I had parted in the morning. I found
him in his room suffering from a severe attack of the colic;
I was still under the pleasurable excitement of my dinner,
its effects were still radiating about my brain like
heat from a cooling stove. I was very communicative
about the events of the day, and among other things exceedingly
grateful to my sick friend for introducing me
to such a splendid hotel and to such good dinners.

" 'Good dinners,' he groaned, 'do I look as if I had
eaten a good dinner? nearly dead from swallowing cabbage
and pork.'

"The very mention of such gross aliment made me
sick, and I asked him where he dined, with undisguised
alarm.

" 'In the hotel, to be sure,' was his reply.

"I told him that he was dreaming, and to convince
him, gave him a hurried description of my own dinner
at the same time and place. The severe pains of the
colic could not altogether destroy the mysterious meaning
of my friend's eyes as he looked up, and informed
me that the table I sat down at was a private table, and

the dinner that had given me so much satisfaction was
a "game dinner," got up at great expense, and under
the immediate superintendence of celebrated bon
vivants.

"The conceit of my ability to amuse a party of
strangers at the social board, vanished into thin air; the
cause of the wit of my jokes was revealed, - fortunate,
indeed, as I was, in eating a good dinner, I was still
more fortunate in meeting with a party of gentlemen,
who were too delicate to hint at any explanations that
would, in their presence, inform me of my amusing mistake.

THE GREAT FOUR MILE DAY.

[This western sketch was elicited from a celebrated but idle pen, by personal
friendship for the "Bee Hunter." Its great merit and originality cannot
fail to be widely appreciated.]

THE city of Louisville, in the fall of 1822, was visited
by an epidemic, which decimated its population and
converted the dwellings of its inhabitants, erewhile the
abodes of pleasantness and hospitality, into houses of
mourning. The records of the devastations of the fell
intruder; are to be found inscribed upon the headstones
that whiten the ancient graveyard of the town, wherein
are deposited the bodies of those, who, whilst sojourning
upon earth, dispensed the good things of this world with
graceful liberality, and made a home for the wayfarer
amidst a people upon whom he had no other claim than
that of a stranger. The Angel of Death hovered over
the devoted city in remorseless ecstasy, pointing the
shafts of his exhaustless quiver in every direction, and

striking down in preference, the shining objects of
public consideration and regard. I was among those
who felt the winnowing of his wings as he flitted past
my couch in quest of nobler trophies.

All those who were not obliged to remain within the
doomed precincts of the city, fled to places afar off;
while such as mere necessity required to abide the pestilence,
resorted to the most ingenious devices to escape
its visitation. Those who were overlooked by the Destroyer
in his wrath, were near being starved, as few
country people dared bring marketing into the town, and
those who did so, only ventured within interdicted limits
at certain hours of the day, and right hastily did they
retreat to their more salubrious abodes. Amid the
general desolation. the incidents of woe were strangely
mingled with those that cheated Death, momentarily, of
his horrors.

It were a scene that might have provoked the attention
of Atropos herself, and made her pause awhile in her
terrible vocation, to smile upon the ludicrous means that
terror invented to thwart the purposes of Destiny. The
emaciated figures of the convalescent citizen, strangely
contrasted with the stalwart frame of the hardy yeoman,
whilst the cadaverous aspect of the former added to the
grotesqueness of the besmeared faces of the latter.

The farmer, moved either by compassion or love of
gain to visit the town, as he penetrated the city as far
as the market-house, would use amulets and bags of

sulphur, and besmeared his nose and lips with tar, to
protect him in inhaling the tainted atmosphere; and
whilst he exposed his poultry for sale, kept continually
burning about his stall aromatic herbs, such as pennyroyal,
sage and tansy, to appease or appal the dread intent of Azrael.

It was with a bounding heart, that late in September
I learned that I was well enough to be removed beyond
the sound of the church bell, whose daily tolling announced
to me, as I lay prostrate, the death of some
schoolmate, whose merry laugh would never more be
heard upon the bowling-green; or the demise of some
ancient crone or new comer, whose gossip or whose enterprise
was the pastime of the youth, or the theme of
speculation amongst the fathers of the city. The luxuriant
forests had just assumed the russet garb of autumn,
as I once more found myself without the city, and right
speedily did the bracing country air and association with
people whose hearth-stone had not been visited by pestilence,
exert their influence in restoring me both to cheerfulness
and strength.

My destination was Shelby county, in the neighborhood
of the village of that name, where I remained until
November. It was during the latter part of October
that the events transpired that will form the subject
of this brief history, and the character of the incident
will probably excuse the digression with which it is begun;
for, as will be presently seen, the epidemic had a

principal agency in producing the catastrophe, which,
had it not happened, would have spared me the task of
an achievement in turf matters, more remarkable
than the connection between pestilence and
the sequel of these pages.

On the third Saturday (if I remember aright) of
October, 1822, the Hon. J---- L---- called for me
on his way to the Jockey Club Races, on the four-mile
day. He had taken up the impression that a race would
be a source of amusement and advantage to me; and in
the fulfilment of a humane purpose, had brought along
with him an Indian pony, that went by the euphonious
name of "Boots," given as much for shortness as
by reason of the color of the animal, which was an
equivocation between a sandy brown and a dingy black
- just that of a pair of boots, which had not received
the polishing aid of the black for an indefinite period.
Astride of this epitome of a horse, I made my first appearance
upon a race-course. I was then only ten
years of age, and the impressions made upon my mind
at that time are more vivid than those of a later day,
and of more important character.

There were then no spacious stands erected for the
accommodation of visitors. Upon a mound within the
circle of the track were collected, what was then considered,
a vast number of carriages, containing the aristocratic
beauty of the country - though perhaps some of
the fair patrons of the turf might at this time, or their

daughters for them, turn up their seraphic noses at the
rude contrivances that rejoiced at so recent a period in
the appellation. About the field were horsemen innumerable,
and upon the adjacent hills were thronged the
less fortunate spectators, who could muster neither
wheeled vehicle nor four-footed beast for the occasion.
The scene was one of animation, and to my young imagination,
- of unsurpassable brilliancy.

We had not been long upon the ground before we ascertained
that something was amiss. Every body wore an
uneasy and fidgetty aspect, the cause of which was soon
discovered. By the rules of the Jockey Club, it required
three entries to make a race. There was no
walking over the course, in those days. Every purse
taken, had to be won gallantly of at least two competitors.
Only two horses had been entered, and the sport
seemed about to be broken up for want of a third.
There were other nags of "lineage pure" in attendance,
but their owners were afraid to start them against the
celebrated Blannerhassett, and the no less celebrated
Epaminondas.

In this strait the concourse of assembled people
grew ill-natured, and even the ladies pouted in sore
disappointment. The owners and trainers of the renowned
coursers, which were held apart for want of a
go-between, vaunted the performances of their respective
nags and looked daggers at the judges, whose conscientious
scruples would not permit the purse to be taken,

The famous racer, J---- H---- , hopped about the
track with accelerated motion, in calling the public attention
to the prominent points of Blannerhassett, who
was to be abated of his laurels by a rule, which he stigmatized
with many epithets, having reference to eternal
darkness; whilst Dr. B---- was no less industrious in
extolling the merits of Epaminodas, who happened to
be precisely in the same situation with his competitor.

What was to be done? The ladies were making
preparation to leave, and the gentleman had begun to
arrange for "scrubbing," when the Judge called out
from the stand in a loud voice (trumpets were not then
in vogue), "saddle your horses!" What a thrill passed
through the crowd! and with what emotions did I hear
these sounds.

The public, generally, was greatly overjoyed at the
prospect of the race, but, nevertheless, there were many
who were anxious to know upon what authority the
judges had ordered the horses to be saddled; and these
were, generally, the very persons who were most boisterous
in abusing them for their obstinacy, when it was apprehended
that there would be no sport.

Upon inquiry, it was found out that the Hon. J.
L----, in conjunction with three other gentlemen viz.,
Hon. J. T---- , M. H---- , and R. B---- , Esqrs., had
actually entered a third horse, and thereby made the

The strict constructionists were not satisfied, however
with the announcement of the third entry; they
demanded to see the animal - and I well remember the
air of ruffled dignity with which the owner of "Boots"
bade me get up behind him, to have the "great unknown"
led up to the stand for inspection, and saddled,
or rather unsaddled, for the race.

The "Boots"party had made the entry with no intention
of running him. It was on their part a gratuitous
subscription of the sum required, to prevent the
spectators from going home in chagrin and disappointment.
But when pushed to this extremity, they not
only produced the nominee, but actually resolved upon
making a brush for the money - as much in derision of
the scruples of the malcontents, as in obedience to a certain
spirit of the old Adam in them, which revolted
against the uncharitable suggestions of collusion bruited
about the course, when it was said, that the third entry
would not exhibit himself for the contest.

Upon the threshold of his ingress into the theatre
of fame, poor "Boots" met with an obstacle that well
nigh nipped his prospects in the bud. The rules of the
club required the pedigree of every horse entered to be
stated. Alas, "Boots" had neither scutcheon nor ancestry.
His age was of little consequence. His present
owner had come in possession of him ten years before

that time, and consequently he was set down as
"aged," a term of scope and verge enough to satisfy the
most fastidious. But his pedigree! There was the
rub.

"Boots" was an orphan upon the paternal side
from birth, and the mother's too, so far as any one could
say to the contrary. He was what is called filius nullus,
or nobody's child, and consequently had a right to
claim any one for parent he thought fit. His owner
plead to be allowed to enter him as "a charity scholar,"
but this could not be granted. At length a compromise
was made, and "Boots" appeared upon the field
under the following imposing blazon and protection.

"The Hon. J. L.---- enters bl. h. 'Boots,' aged; by
'Tar,' out of a 'Cuff ' mare, of unknown extraction."

These preliminaries settled, the thorough breds were
saddled, and the saddle was taken off of "Boots" for
the contest. A negro lad who had ridden him as far as
the house where I resided, and who was allowed by his
master to go to the races, as he had to wait till they
were over to take him home, was mounted upon him.
Great was the laughter of the crowd when the horses
were about starting. The pawing impatience of the
over-trained racers, attracted little attention. The
gaze of the multitude was upon the black pony. "Blannerhassett"
neighed, and "Epaminondas" snorted, -
but all to no purpose. No one cared to look at them.
"Boots "was like a Merry Andrew in a deep tragedy -

he had completely upset the gravity of the audience,
whose powers of composing themselves to the thoughtful
mood becoming the occasion, seemed gone for ever, to
the great chagrin of J. H----, and Dr. B----, who
cavorted about in their anger, as much as their horses.

FIRST HEAT - There was great difficulty in starting
the horses. several? false "get offs" were made. The
star actors in the drama pirouetted most provokingly,
whilst the rider of "Boots" made him toe the line,
where he waited with meekness and humility for the
word "go," and even after that was given manifested
little anxiety to change his position.

The thorough-breds went at it, pell-mell. The undue
share of attention given to "Boots" by the crowd,
had first nettled their owners and afterwards their jockeys.
Away they went like twin bullets, leaving "Boots"
so far behind, that before the first mile was done he was
lost sight of. When they entered the quarter stretch
of the close of the second mile, "Boots" was for the
first time passing the judges' stand. On they went with
resistless fury.

In the beginning of the third mile "Boots," was
seen about a hundred yards in advance. This somewhat
startled the spectators, who in the closeness of the
running between "Blannerhassett " and "Epaminodas"
had for a moment forgotten all about him. There
he was though, in front, and pegging away with hearty
good will-ahead it is true in point of position, but actually

"Boots" strove for about six feet to keep his position
in advance, but they swept by him, and after they
had gone out of sight the good old horse had all his running
to himself, and cut out the work to his own liking.

The fourth mile of the race was run under whip and
spur; first "Blan" and then "Pam" (as the spectators
abreviated their learned names) was ahead; the
feeling of the multitude was intense. In entering the
quarter stretch the last mile "Boots" was once more
discernible, and nothing daunted by the clatter of hoofs,
or dispirited by the gibes of such as happened to catch a
glimpse of him, was maintaining his accustomed gait
steadily, and just rounded the turn, as the "two bloods"
swept by the stand - a dead lock.

According to the rules of the club, a dead heat was
regarded as though none had been run. The Boots
party contended that their horse was not distanced, and
to this view of the case, the judges unanimously inclined.
Upon examination the rules were positive upon the subject,
and had "Boots"bolted, or had he not run a foot
much less two miles of the four, he would be entitled to
start a second time. Indeed, no objection was made by
any one, none could be made, and accordingly it was determined
to put him again in the field the fact of the
matter being, that his owner perceiving that the old

horse looked better for his exertion, was inclined to see
the day out, just for the fun of the thing.

If the extra exercise of the race improved "Boots,"
it had quite a contrary effect upon the others. They
were sadly blown, and manifested growing symptoms of
distress. In those days, the business of training a horse
for a four-mile race was beyond the skill of Western
jockeys, or at least of many of them, and the art of
riding in a manner to keep a horse together, and husband
him for after heats, was known to but few. In the
present case, the horses were both over-trained, and
over-worked in the race.

As soon as the heat was done, innumerable boys and
grown-up men were rubbing them down, scraping the
foam off of them with great industry and perseverance.
Covers of brightest colors were put over them, and such
pains as few invalids get, were bestowed upon them;
whilst his rider hitched "Boots" to a post, and quietly
sauntered off to a booth, to comfort himself with gingerbread
and a glass of cider.

When the time allowed for rest had elapsed, the three
horses were again brought to the post-but this time
the thorough-brads had become quite subdued, either
through fatigue, or from an admiration of the sober deportment
of the strange competitor who stood beside
them. At the word "go," they all three "got off"
cleverly together for the

which, by the help of such coaxing as was inherent in a
stout cane used by Jesse (the black boy who rode him),
he maintained with wonderful precision The cracks
went off at a slow gallop; both riders being ordered to
go gently along. In this way they ran the first mile.
The second mile was done in the same manner, and now
for the first time was heard the exhortation, "go it,
Boots," as the little black kept closely up The pace
did not improve the third mile, both Dr. B---- and J.
H---- knowing that neither horse had more than a
short brush in him. Upon the fourth mile the speed
did not quicken, until Jesse, taking heart from his closeness
to the leading horses, actually challenged the hindermost
one for the front. Such a shout as went up upon
this rally, was never before heard upon that field.

"Go it, Boots," burst from every mouth, and even the
ladies moved their 'kerchiefs and murmured soft applause.
But chivalrous as the effort was, it came near
costing "Boots" the laurels that were wreathing for his
brow. The push was made too soon. The jockeys became
cognizant of the proximity of the unheralded
scrub, and went off at the top of the speed of their respective
horses. "Boots" was fast falling into the
rear; but as good luck would have it, they could not
quite distance him, but in attempting to do so, they
completely used up the "cracks."

Epaminondas won this heat by a neck. The stable
boys again got around the descendants of Godolphin,

who indeed required their attention more than ever
- for though they had not run more than half a mile of
the heat, that was enough to worst them terribly in their
jaded condition. And "Boots," too, fared better than
before. He was getting to be a feature in the race, and
a circumstance attending the betting made him now an
object of the greatest interest.

After the dead heat, the betting began. The result
of that heat proved the horses to be so nearly of equal
speed and spirit, that great confidence was placed in the
representations of their owners, and parties betted as
they were partial to the one or the other of them

It so happened that no one seemed to take "Boots"
into the account in making bets, and by that very means
he had as much money depending upon him as either of
the other horses.

Every one who proposed a wager, betted that either
Dr. B----'s "Pam" or J. H---- 's "Blan" would win
the purse.

Now the takers of such offers were of course "fielders;"
for they in fact betted, that the horse named would
not take their money, and consequently, if "Boots" won
it, they were as much gainers as though the nag they
relied upon had won it. Hence every bet taken was, in
technical term, upon "the field," though the party that
took it, might have forgotten at the time that there was
such a horse as "Boots."

the little black upon the field, enabled him to start for
the second hens, procured for him a vast number of unconscious
backers, and made him, at the present stage
of the race, quite a topic of speculation.

As a matter of course, his comfort came to be provided
for; and an assiduous groom ventured to scrape
down with a thin lath. Whereupon "Boots," who
had never been known to perspire since the last war,
when he was taken in Canada by the person of whom his
present owner purchased hill looked around, and not
being able to recognize the fellow, or diving what on
earth he was up to, kicked out his left hind leg in evident
disgust.

This was the only token of concern in the proceedings
going on, that the pony had given during the day,
but that, slight as it was. gave great hope to the
"fielders," for the other horses, albeit so spry in the
beginning, had got beyond the kicking point; and submitted
to the manipulation of their trainers with commendable,
but ominous docility.

When the interval of rest between the heats had expired,
"Boots" alone, seemed qualified for a repetition
of the preceding exercises. He first made his appearance
at the post, in consequence of his not requiring
time for saddling. He stood for some moments quietly,
as usual, with his nose on a parallel with the judges'
stand; but as the trainer brought up Epaminondas
and Blannerhassett he turned his head sideways, looked

wistfully for a moment upon them, and exhaled a long
deep sigh - whether of pity at the dejected aspect and
distressed condition of the whilom gallant steeds, or on
account of some faint notion of the business he was engaged
in, then for the first time penetrating the integuments
of his simple understanding, has not been satisfactorily
explained.

Had he been aware that money was staked upon
him, - that he was in fact accessory to gambling, - it is a
question if he would not have sulked outright; for
"Boots," although bred in a savage country, had kept
moral society for many years; and must have imbibed
serious, and temperance ideas. But the word "go" was
given, and they were all three off for the

THIRD HEAT. - For the first time time the little black was
ahead, both in point of fact and position. He went
off just as at the commencement of the race, with perhaps
a trifle more alacrity from practice.

Jesse, who had been lectured upon the impropriety
of his brush in the second heat, so soon as the last half
of the fourth mile, imagined that he had done wrong in
taking the lead, and set about holding the pony up until
the others passed by; but "Boots," to the sore mortification
of his rider would not be held up. He had got
a taste of the boy's bludgeon and not liking its savor,
pushed on, despite the most obstinate endeavors to restrain
his impetuosity.

the black's proximity, but absolutely trailed him the
whole of the first mile. On entering the second, either
through mortified pride, or more positive malice, both
the jockeys were ordered to go ahead of the scrub.Spurs were put in requisition, and the flagged and worn
horses got by the pony before they came into the back
stretch. After shaking off their ignoble competitor, they
relapsed into the stinted stride they set out with. But
Jesse now had become enamored of the front, and on he
urged the pony, who, nothing loth, crawled up to them,
and came round the quarter stretch neck and neck with
the foremost.

In the straight work, first one and then the other
glided by him. But these fits and starts in running
could not avail against a steady pace. "Boots" would come up with them, and at every subsequent attempt it
was becoming palpably more difficult to part company
with him.

On entering the third mile, Epimanondas was evidently
lame, and when he tried to widen the distance
between him and "Boots" on the back stretch, gave up:
the little black went by him for good, and a shout of
applause arose, that had well nigh made old Entellus's
sceptre tremble in his grasp.

The contest was now narrowed down to "Boots"
and Blannerhassett, - and neither of them had won a
heat.

galloped in every direction over the field, encouraging
Jesse to get the descendant of Cuff along;
straight ahead, the little black held the even terror of
his way, whilst "Blan" would first leave him a rod,
and then drop back to him, in flickering fits of "game
and gravel."

At the beginning of the fourth mile, "Boots" was
well up; on going round the turn he passed "Blan" a
neck. (Immense cheering.) In the straight running
"Blan" again sloped by the pony, but remained satisfied
with getting ahead the least bit imaginable. This
position was maintained to the turn, when "Boots"
came alongside, and before entering the quarter stretch,
drew out a full length in advance, amid deafening shouts
of "go it, Boots," "go it, darkey," "pop him, sooty,"
"give him Jesse;" and such like exclamations of disparaging
signification, but used in the most laudatory
sense of approbation.

Jesse, unfortunately, in his eagerness to win the
heat; used his cudgel carelessly, and accidentally gave
the black a clip on the head, which so "disgentled" him
that be turned almost entirely around before he could
be checked. In this way, he lost his advantage just as
he reached the distance stand, and it was well for him
that he had got that far, as "Boots" showed the most
implacable resentment to such treatment, and tried to
run in every direction but the right one.

actually reared up, and wasted enough energy in expostulating
against any such phrenological experiments being
made upon him, to have won the heat, had it been
properly directed. He could not be induced to resume
operations until "Blan" had passed the judges' stand,
and was pronounced winner of the heat.

At the termination of this heat, the nature of the
betting was fully developed. The "Blan" party upon
claiming their stakes Epaminondas being distanced -
discovered that "Boots" stood between them and the
spoils. They had raised a feeble shout upon the issue
of the heat, futile enough; for they assumed to consider
a triumph over "Boots" as a sorry affair, but when they
understood that the pony was entitled to start a fourth
time, even that faint ejaculation, melted down to a dubious
mutter.

The rules of the club required a horse to win one of
the three first heats to enable him to creep upon the
track. Strange to say there was greater doubt concerning
this last mile than there was respecting "Boots"
being distanced the first heat. The judges had great
trouble in deciding the difficulty. Three heats had been
run, and "Boots" had won neither; but then the first
was declared null and void, ergo, only two had been, in
law, accomplished.

The Epaminondas party here stepped in, as much
for the principle, as the interest of the thing, and declared
that "Boots" had a right to run a fourth heat.

Dr. B---- , who, now that his horse was distanced, would
give his left hand to see J.H---- 's nag done the same
by, declared openly for the pony and the judges "being
sufficiently advised," decided that way. This was the
most reasonable, as well as the most popular judgment;
for one half of those who betted on "Blan," being, in
sporting terms, "fielders," and who, consequently, could
not lose, were vociferous for the continuance of the sport.

This question settled, betters were puzzled how to
lay out their money. Blannerhassett had yet friends
who would not hedge. They could not realize the possibility
of his being beat by a scrub like "Boots," and
J. H---- taking courage from the pony's strange freak
at the end of the last heat, vaunted his nag's prowess
anew, as well to assure his friends, as to brag off the
"Boots'" people.

Strange rumors were circulated respecting the condition
of each horse. The trainer of "Blan" kept the
people, as far as possible, from inspecting the state of
his charge, whilst every man, woman and child in the
field, that chose to do so, was allowed to look on "Boots,"
and get upon his back too, as to that matter.

The old pony looked none the worse for wear, and
how to account for his fantastic behavior, was perplexing
enough. Some said he sulked, others that he had
given way internally, - one or two insinuated foul dealings.
None, however, divined the real cause, except
Jesse, who kept it to himself, not even venturing to inform

his master that the faithful creature he bestrode
had only paused in his career to remonstrate against an
unintentional, yet serious and glaring personal injury.

What with the fear of a repetition of the pony's caprices,
and the well-founded belief that Blannerhassett
was used up, the public were in equipoise in regard
to the result. Betting was going on pretty freely, when
the horses were summoned to the

LAST HEAT - The pony showed little change since
he last "toed the mark," unless perhaps a dogged air,
arising as much from a sense of wrong, as an internal
speculation as to whether the affair was ever coming to
an end.

Blannerhassett looked worse than his namesake did
when charged with high treason The high-bred steed
was in no mood to take on airs. He came up panting
and faint, and in his distress took no notice whatever of
'Boots," who, as soon as the boy mounted him, manifested
a strange anxiety to push on. In his eagerness
to get his head out of the way of Jesse's stick, he actually
made a false start, and had to be called back.

When the word was given, "Boots" got greatly the
start. It was enough that Jesse held his cudgel so as
to remind him that it was in readiness; away he scampered,
regardless alike of the shouts of the multitude,
and the abuse of the Blannerhassetts, whose horse was
quite stiff at the go off, and lost ground considerably for
the first half mile. On getting a little warm, he went
better but the pony was in no humor to wait for him.

At the close of the first mile, "Boots" was two hundred
yards ahead, and pegging away as if the devil was
behind him, and a phantom corn heap in front.

Blannerhassett's jockey now used whip and spur to
overtake the flying imp it was in vain. His horse
responded to the steel and lash for a few strides, and
then gave out; fatigued, - lamed, - and broken down.

Meanwhile "Boots," not having the reputation of
Blannerhassett before his eyes, but the dread of the
cudgel behind him, was rattling it off at a merry pace.
Upon entering the third mile of the heat Jesse came in
view of his antagonist, pretty near the spot where he
was overtaken himself, in the beginning of the day. The
boy could not for a time comprehend how "Blan" got
before him, and was evidently becoming bewildered with
the phenomenon, when the Hon. J. L---- told him to
push on, and beat the blooded stock, as far as he had
been beaten.

The darkey understanding now that he had gained a
mile, showed his ivory to the spectators and his cudgel
to "Boots," and swept by the done-up nag, like a ball
fired out of a cannon charged with slow matches.

I will make no attempt to describe the shouts of the
people at the issue, until I can dip my pen in electricity
to write in thunder drops, - or in the prism, to depict
the eye of beauty as it flashed applause, to the unheralded
champion.

"Boots" but the sun. Jesse made it his ambition to
finish the race by the light of his rays, and he was as
proud as a sceptred monarch, when looking over the
heads of the throng that gathered around the victorious
"Boots" upon the conclusion of the heat, he saw the
glorious orb yet above the horizon, and looking gladly
upon him as though he would bless him before he went
to bed.

"Boots" was near sharing the fate of the Grecian,
who was smothered to death in the theatre, by wreaths
and shawls showered down upon him in glorification. He
could scarcely breathe, for the multitudes that pressed
upon him in one way or another, to do him honor. And
Jesse, too, got a large share of plaudits and dimes conformably;
and even I came in for gleanings of regard,
as I rode home upon the pony after the jubilation.

There were no cattle-painters there, nor lithographers,
nor daguerreotypists; else "Boots" and his rider
would have been transmitted to posterity in their lineaments
of that day. It has fallen upon feeble hands to
preserve some faint remembrance of them in this account,
which is as inferior to the merits of the theme, as
the snuffed candle is to the brilliant orb of day.

THE WAY THAT AMERICANS GO DOWN
HILL.

"But who has not been both wearied and amused with the slow caution of
the German drivers? At every little descent on the road that it would almost
require a spirit-level to discern that it is a descent he discerns, and puts on
his drag. On a road of the gentlest undulations, where a heavy English coach
would go at the rate of ten English miles an hour without drag or pause, up hill
or down, he is continually alighting and putting on one or both drags, alighting
and ascending with a patience and perseverance that amazes you. Nay, in
many states, this caution is evinced also by the government, and is forced on
the driver, particularly in Bavaria, Wurtemberg, and Austria, by a post by the
way-side, standing at the top of every slope on the road, having painted on a
board, a black and conspicuous drag, and announcing a fine, of commonly six
florins (ten shillings) on any loaded carriage which shall descend without the
drag on. In every thing they are continually guarding against those accidents
which result from hurry, or slightness of construction." Howitt's Moral and
Domestic Life in Germany.

The stage in which we travelled across "the Alleganies,"
was one of the then called "Transit line." It was, as the
driver termed it, "a rushing affair," and managed, by a
refined cruelty to dumb beasts, to keep a little ahead of
the "Opposition," which seemed ever to come clattering
in our rear, like some ill-timed spirit, never destined
exactly to reach, but always to be near us.

The drivers of our different "changes," all seemed
to be made upon the go-ahead principle, and looked upon
nothing as really disgraceful, but being behind the stage
that so perseveringly pursued us. Unfortunately too,
for our safety, we went in an "extra," and managed, by
a freak of fortune, to arrive at the different stations,
where drivers and horses were changed, just as the former
had got comfortably to bed; and it was not the least
interesting portion of my thoughts, that every one of
these Jehus made the most solemn protestations, that
he would "upset us over some precipice not less than
three hundred and sixty-five feet high, and knock us into
such a perfect nonenity, that it would save the coroner
the trouble of calling a jury to sit upon our remains."

It is nine years since, and if the winter of that year
is not set down as "remarkably cold" in the almanacs,
it shows a want of care in those useful annuals.

We say it is nine years since we crossed the Alleganies.
At the particular time to which we allude,
the "oldest inhabitant" of the country (and we met
him on the road side) informed us that he had no recollection
of such a severe season. That we could live
through such a night would have been deemed impossible,
could its perils have been anticipated, before they
were experienced.

The fire in every house we passed smoked like a furnace,
and around its genial warmth were crowded groups

of men, women, and children, who looked as if they
might have been born in the workshop of Vulcan.

The road over which we travelled was macadamized,
and then frozen; it was as hard as nature will permit,
and the tramping of the horses' feet upon it sounded in
the frosty air as if they were rushing across a continuous
bridge.

The inside of the stage-coach is a wonder; it is a
perfect denial to Newton's theory, that two things, or
twenty, cannot occupy the same place at the same time.
The one we travelled in was perfectly full of seats, straw,
buffalo robes, hat-boxes, rifles, flute cases, and small parcels
- and yet nine men - the very nine muses at times
(all the cider along the road was frozen, and we drank
the heart of it), stowed themselves away within its
bowels; but how, we leave to the masters of exhausted
air-pumps and hydraulic presses to imagine.

We all, of course, froze, more or less, but it was in
streaks; the curtains of the stage were fastened down
and made tight, and then, like pigs, we quarrelled ourselves
into the snuggest possible position and place; it
being considered fortunate to be in the centre, as we
then parted with least heat, to satisfy the craving appetite
of Jack Frost, who penetrated every little hole and
nook, and delighted himself in painting fantastic figures
upon the different objects exposed to his influence, out
of our misery and breath.

in the climate of our favored country, we unexpectedly
found ourselves travelling over a road that was covered
with a frozen sleet, for cold as the season was, there was
no snow; the horses' shoes consequently had no corks on
them worth noticing, and the iron-bound wheels, on this
change in the surface of the earth, seemed to have so
little hold upon the road that we almost expected they
would make an effort to leave it, and break our necks as
a reward for their aspirations. On we went, however,
and as night came on, the darkness enveloped us in a
kind of cloud, - the ice-glazed surface of the ground reflecting
upwards a dull, mysterious light.

Our whereabouts never troubled us; all places between
the one we were anxious to reach, and where we
were, made no impression upon us; and perhaps we
would never have known a single particular place, but
for the incident about to be detailed.

I think that all my companions, as well as myself,
were asleep, when I was awaked by that peculiar sawing
motion which a stage body makes upon its springs when
suddenly stopped.

"What's the matter now?" was the general exclamation
of the "insides" to the driver; who was discovered
through the glass window on the ground, beating
his arms around his body with a vehemence that
almost raised him into the air.

"Matter!" he exclaimed, sticking his nose above
a woollen blanket that was tied around his face, which

from the cold and his breath was frosted like a wedding-
cake,"matter enough; here we are on the top of Ball
Mountain, the drag-chain broken, and I am so confoundedly
cold, that I could not tie a knot in a rope if I
had eighteen thousand hands."

It was a rueful situation truly. I jumped out of the
stage, and contemplated the prospect near and at a distance,
with mixed feelings. So absorbed did I soon become,
that I lost sight of the unpleasant situation in
which we were placed, and regarded only the appearance
of things about me, disconnected with my personal
happiness.

There stood the stage, upon the very apex of the
mountain, the hot steaming breath of my half-smothered
travellers pouring out of its open door in puffs like the
respirations of a mammoth. The driver, poor fellow,
was limping about, more than half frozen, - growling,
swearing, and threatening. The poor horses looked
about twenty years older than when they started, their
heads being whitened with the frost. They stamped
with impatience on the hard-ribbed ice, the polished iron
of their shoes looking as if it would penetrate their flesh
with biting cold.

But such a landscape of beauty - all shrouded in
death, we never saw or conceived of, and one like it is
seldom presented to the eye. Down the mountain could
be traced the broad road in serpentine windings, lessening
in the distance until it appeared no wider than a footpath,

obscured by the ravines and forest-trees through
which it ran; on each side were deep, yawning chasms,
at the bottom of which the hardy pines sprung upward
a hundred and fifty feet, and yet they looked from where
I stood like creeping plants. The very mountain-tops
spread out before me like pyramids. The moon, coming
up from behind the distant horizon, shone upon this vast
prospect, bathing one elevation of light and another in
darkness, or reflecting her silvery rays across the frozen
ground in sparkling gems, as if some eastern princess
scattered diamonds upon a marble floor; then starting
in bold relief the shaggy rock-born hemlock and poison
laurel, it penetrated the deep solitudes, and made "darkness
visible," where all before had been most deep obscurity.

There too might be seen the heat, driven from the
earth in light fogs by the intense cold, floating upwards
in fantastic forms, and spreading out in thin ether as
it sought more elevated regions.

As far in the distance in every direction as the eye
could reach, were the valleys of Penn, all silent in the
embrace of winter and night, calling up most vividly the
emotions of the beautiful and the sublime.

"How are we to get down this outragous hill,
driver?" bawled out a speculator in the western lands,
who had amused us, through the day, with nice calculations
of how much he could have saved the government
and himself, had he had the contract of making
the "National Road" over which we were travelling.

"There is no difficulty," said he, "in getting down
the hill, but you well know there are a variety of ways
of doing the same thing; the drag-chain would be of little
use as the wheel-tire would make a runner of it. I think
you had better all take your places inside, say your
prayers, and let me put off - and if yonder grinning moon
has a wish to see a race between a stage and four horses
down 'Ball Mountain,' she'll be gratified, and see
sights that would make a locomotive blush."

The prospect was rather a doleful one; we had
about ninety chances in a hundred that we would make
a "smash of it," and we had the same number of chances
of being frozen to death if we did not take the risk of
being "smashed," for the first tavern we could get to
was at the foot of the mountain. The driver was a
smart follow and had some hostage in the world worth
living for, because he was but three days wedded - had
he been married six months we would not have trusted
him.

The vote was taken; and it was decided to "go
ahead. "

If I were to describe an unpleasant situation, I
should say that it was to be in a stage, the door closed
on you, with great probabilities that it will be opened by
your head thrusting itself through the oak panels, with
the axle of the wheel at the same time falling across

your breast. It seemed to me that I would be, with my
companions, if I entered that stage, buried alive; so
preferring to see the coming catastrophe, I mounted the
driver's seat with a degree of resolution that would
have enabled me to walk under a falling house without
winking.

At the crack of the whip, the horses, impatient of the
delay, started with a bound, and ran on a short distance,
the boot of the stage pointing to the earth; a sudden
reverse of this position, and an inclination of our bodies
forward, told too plainly that we were on the descent.
Now commenced a race between gravitation and horse
flesh, and odds would have been safely bet on the former.
At one time we swayed to and fro as if in hammocks;
then we would travel a hundred yards sideways, bouncing,
crashing about like mad.

A quarter way down the mountain - and the horses
with reeking-hot sides and distended nostrils laid themselves
down to their work, while the lashing whip cracked
and goaded them in the rear, to hasten their speed.

The driver, with a coolness that never forsook him,
guided his vehicle, as much as possible, in zig-zag lines
across the road. Obstacles, no larger than pebbles,
would project the stage into the air as if it had been an
Indian-rubber ball, and once as we fell into a rut, we
escaped upsetting by a gentle tap from the stump of a
cedar tree upon the hub of the wheel, that righted us
with the swiftness of lightning.

On we went - the blood starting in my chilled frame
diffusing over me a glowing heat, until I wiped huge
drops of perspiration from my brow, and breathed in the
cold air as if I were smothering. The dull, stunning
sound that now marked our progress, was scarcely relieved
by the clattering hoofs of the horses, and the motion
became perfectly steady, except when a piece of ice
would explode from under the wheels as if burst with
powder.

Almost with the speed of thought we rushed on,
and the critical moment of our safety came. The stumbling
of a horse - the breaking of a strap - a too strongly-
drawn breath, almost, would have, with the speed we
were then making, projected us over the mountain-side
as if shot from a cannon, and hurled us on the frozen
ground and hard rocks beneath.

The driver, with distended eyes, and with an expression
of intellectual excitement, played his part well,
and fortune favored us.

As we made the last turn in the road, the stage for
an instant vibrated between safety and destruction, -
running for several yards upon one side, it displayed two
wheels in the air, whirling with a swiftness that rendered
them almost invisible. With a severe contusion it
righted - the driver shouted - and we were rushing up
an ascent.

For a moment the stage and horses went on, and
it was but for a moment, for the heavy body lately

full of life, settled back upon the traces a dead weight,
dragging the poor animals in one confused heap downwards,
until, shaking violently on its springs, it stood
still.

"A pretty severe tug," said one of the insiders to
the driver, as he stretched himself, with a yawn.

"Well, I rather think it was," said Jehu, with a
smile of ineffable disdain. "I've driv on this road
fifteen years, but I never was so near - as to-night.
If I was on t'other side of 'Ball Mountain,' and my
wife on this (only three days married, recollect), I would
not drive that stage down 'Ball Mountain,' as I have
to-night, to keep her from running away with a darkey."

"Why, you don't think there was any real danger,
do you?" inquired another 'insider,' thrusting his
head into the cold air.

"I calculate I do," said the driver contemptuously.
"If the off fore-leader, when I reached the 'devil's
rut,'" he continued, "had fallen, as he intended, your
body would now be as flat as either back-seat cushion
in that stage."

"Lord, bless us, is it possible!" sighed another
'insider;' "but it is all very well we have escaped, and
we must run a little risk rather than be delayed in our
journey."

Appreciating more than my fellow-travellers, the
terrible ordeal through which we had just passed, I
have often in my dreams fancied myself on a stage-

coach, just tumbling down the ravines that yawn on the
sides of "Ball Mountain," and when I have started into
wakefulness, I have speculated on that principle of the
American character that is ever impelling it forward;
but it never forcibly struck me as a national peculiarity,
until I read Howitts's journey down hill among the
sturdy Germans of the Old World.